


Developing Problems

by Lindsay



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 44,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindsay/pseuds/Lindsay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally a squire now, Alanna's developing breasts pose a series of problems. With Jon still in the dark and half of the palace on the verge of discovering her secret, Alanna must take drastic measures to survive and put a stop to Roger once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Developing Problems

Alanna pulled off her tunic and breeches, eager to cleanse her dirt-filled pores. She tossed the muddy clothes onto the floor and slipped into the pristine water of the tub. Thankfully, she realized, the tub must have been filled right before her arrival, for the water's usual lukewarm temperature seemed to be a thing of the past.

For the first time in what felt like ages, she soaked in the tub, though she felt guilty pangs when thinking about how she could better use this time for her studies, or to practice her swordsmanship. She comforted herself with the thought that she had deserved this reward, as being pushed in the mud by a grinning Gary definitely gave her the right to a small consolation prize.

As the water grew cold, she pulled herself out of the tub and groaned inwardly at the change in temperature. She stepped out of the tub onto the towel she was using to sop up the water, then onto the castle floor. She shuddered at the touch of the cold stone floor on her bare feet, but still made it across the room to her dresser, where her towel lay. She caught a look at herself in the mirror and gasped.

Her breasts had _definitely_ grown since the last time she had seen herself bare. No longer minor swellings, they hung from her body like overly ripe fruits. Still shocked, she wrapped her towel around her body, careful to cover her _monstrosities._

She opened the top drawer of her dresser, fumbling to find her linen breast-bandages with one hand while the other stubbornly held up her towel to maximize the coverage it gave. She clasped her hand over a long bandage, and pulled it from her dresser.

Ashamed, she turned her back to the mirror, not wanting to see herself. She dropped the towel and tied the cloth bindings around her chest, securing them tightly. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and wailed.

 _Why is this happening!_ she wanted to shriek. _Why can't they look any smaller!_ She felt like crying as she pulled on the rest of her clothes, making a careful effort to rumple the front of them as much as possible.

A knock at the door nearly made her heart stop. She didn't want any of her friends to get anywhere _near_ her right now. "Hey, Alan? I know you're in there. Come out for a minute, please, if you're decent yet." Jon's voice echoed in her room, making her wince. Though Jonathan did not know her true sex, her knightmaster was aware of her need for privacy.

"I'm decent," she called. She trudged over to the door, shuddering again at her reflection in the mirror. She unhitched the latch at the top that she always was sure to lock when taking her baths. She pulled open the door, revealing not just Jon, but Jon _and_ Gary.

She felt like shutting the door again, but prayed to the goddess that neither Gary nor Jon would have any urge to look carefully at her chest area.

"Gary has something to say to you," Jonathan grinned, prodding Gary in the back. He smiled at Alanna, continuing, "Especially after I'd told him yours clothes will probably need to be replaced." He smirked at her. "I'll leave you two to sort it out," he said, smiling as he turned around.

Gary grinned as Jon walked away. "Alan, I'm sorry I pushed you in the mud."

Alanna scowled at him, careful to cover her chest with her arms by folding them in a cross gesture. "Oh, I'm _sure_ ," she said, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Gary's smile widened. "Well, maybe you're right. Those clothes of yours needed to be replaced soon anyway."

"Do tell," Alanna said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"They're much too big for you. Or rather, you're much too small for them," he said, grin now stretching across his entire face.

Alanna, forgetting her resolution to forever crossing her arms over her chest, smacked him straight on the mouth. That wiped the smile right off of Gary's face, leaving behind a pale pink mark in its stead. "Okay, I deserved that," he muttered, rubbing the spot where she had hit him.

"Yes, you did." Alanna gave him a smug smile. "You must have forgotten that I've actually learned how to hit people properly."

Gary's smile returned as he gave her a playful punch on the chest. "Though I don't know, Alan. You might fit into them if you let the rest of your body get as flabby as your chest."

The smile fell from Alanna's face, and she quickly rearranged her arms back over her chest. "Leave me alone!" she squealed, her voice high and shrill. "I'm in better shape than _you'll_ ever be!"

Gary gave her a confused half-smile and shook his head. "I'm only joking, Alan." He turned, and took a few strides down the hall. He swiveled his head back to her, and said, "So I'll see you at dinner, right?"

Alanna frowned. "I don't know. I don't feel that great. Perhaps it would be better if I took dinner in my rooms." Her voice, still higher than usual, echoed through the hall.

Gary shrugged. "Very well. I'll tell a servant or someone to bring you up something to eat." He continued his stroll down the hall and began to whistle a tune that Alanna recognized as an annoyingly popular court ballad about a knight and his horse.

"No!" she nearly shouted.

Gary stopped whistling mid song, snapping his head back around at Alanna. Blushing furiously, she said, "I mean, I'll go get something myself later. Don't trouble yourself."

Gary sighed. "Fine then, Alan. I do hope you'll be feeling well by tomorrow." He turned back around and continued his way through the corridor, still whistling the same inane tune.

Alanna ducked back inside her rooms, and bolted the door as tightly as she could.

 _What's happening to me?_


	2. Escaping Problems

Alanna sobbed, pummeling her pillow with her fists. _This_ cannot _happen. I'm supposed to be a knight, no one can find out about me being a girl!_

She heard a knock on the door and suppressed another sob. She sat up, wiping her sodden face with the towel that she had tossed on the floor after the Looking-Into-the-Mirror incident. Pretending not to hear, she remained still on her bed.

"Alan? Gary says you're not feeling well. Would you like me to send a servant to bring some food or something up for you?" Jon's voice boomed through the hall. Alanna flinched at the sound of her fake name. As if she needed another reminder of her predicament.

"No. Leave me alone," she said, trying to sound as cold and convincing as she could.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to send a healer up?" Jon tried to pry a definite answer from her.

"No! I'm fine," she insisted.

"All right, then. I'll leave you alone." Jon sighed in exasperation at his squire's stubbornness.

Alanna also sighed, but in relief. Though she felt like continuing with wallowing in her own pity, she tried to discipline herself. She grabbed a cloak off the stand by the door, and wrapped it tightly around her. She pulled her hood up, trying to conceal her telltale red hair.

Finding this task impossible, she left anyway, furtively sneaking glances whenever she deemed the hallway to be free of her friends. She didn't want to face them; it was more than likely that they all believed her to be sick. Everything that came into Gary's ears went out his mouth, so it would not do for anyone to see 'sick' Alan roaming the halls.

The palace guards didn't even seem to notice as she sneaked right past them, clearly distracted by the pretty flower seller that was attempting to enter the castle. Wearily she shook her head, mentally making a note to herself to never rely on _those_ guards again.

Corus's streets were difficult to navigate in the dark, though the sliver of moon that was able to shine through the clouds certainly helped. That in combination with the various candles she saw lit in windows prevented her from crashing headfirst into the side of any buildings.

At last she saw the faded sign that she knew bore the name, "The Dancing Dove." Quietly she slipped in, trying to keep her head down. No one said anything to her—a young boy hardly merited attention. She hovered close to the walls as she made her way to the bar, not wanting to interact with any of the people more than she had to.

A familiar face greeted her from behind the bar's counter. "Solom," she whispered as she pulled back her hood, "Where's George tonight?"

The old man grinned at her. "Why, young Alan, he's off on some business. He shant be gone for much longer." Solom whipped a mug from under the counter. "Can I be getting' you anythin' t' drink? Whiskey, perhaps?"

Alanna grinned and shook her head. "You know I don't drink. And I've left my purse back at the castle." She wistfully eyed the mug, now regretting that her throat would remain parched.

Solom noticed her thirsty stare, and filled the tankard full of lemonade. He pushed it toward her, saying, "This one's on me. I doubt George'd want me ter let his friends go thirsty."

Alanna smiled at him, accepting the mug. "I'll pay you back next time I visit. Really, I will." She gulped it down, savoring the tart taste of the lemons. She felt a tap on her back and jumped, spewing her last bit of lemonade on the bar's counter. Spinning around, she caught sight of the hazel-eyed man behind her. "George! Don't scare me like that!"

"So, young sprout, what brings you here at this hour?" His usual pleasant self seemed absent tonight, perhaps in light of the near empty sack he was carrying.

Alanna shook this off, and told him, "I think it's matters best discussed in… a more private area."

He gave her a knowing look and winked, allowing a small grin to creep over his face. He wiped both the counter and Alanna off with the towel that Solom had just provided. "Right this way, then."

Alanna followed George to his rooms. She watched as he latched the door and hunted though all of his belongings and rearranged half of his furniture to check for possible intruders. Finding nothing overly suspicious, he dragged his desk chair over for Alanna and plopped himself on the bed, then tossed the sack he carried next to him. "Spill. What's the matter, lass?"

Alanna swallowed, slightly uncomfortable in telling this to a member of the opposite sex. She would have preferred to talk with Eleni, but she needed George's advice.

"My… my… my chest… has been… filling out…" She spoke quietly, stumbling over her words.

George looked at her quizzically. "Lass, that's a part of growing up. You know that as well as I do."

"But that's the problem! I _didn't_ know how _much._ George, I can't hide them! Even Gary noticed, but he thought I was just getting out of shape!" She looked panicked and stood up, her violet eyes wide in fright.

George grabbed her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Calm down, Alanna." He let go of her, but still maintained eye contact. "Now, what are you proposin' I do?"

Alanna took a deep breath, then exhaled quietly. She looked down, and fiddled with her tunic.

"What is it, lass?" George's still voice sounded concerned to her, but she really couldn't bring herself to voice her plans. He nudged her, pulling her face up to his. "Alanna, you can tell me. I won't be one to judge you."

She sighed, and plopped back into her chair. George looked at her questioningly, but she wouldn't look him in the eye.

Finally, she whispered, "Help me disappear."


	3. Taking Some Sense

George's hazel eyes grew wide, and a confused expression appeared over his face. " _Disappear?_ Lass, you're not plannin' on runnin' away, are you?" His voice was gentle, but both his voice and face conveyed his feelings of disbelief.

Alanna whispered, "You said you wouldn't judge me, George. Help me." Her eyes were pleading, begging him to help her.

George sighed. "You know I want to help, but I worry about you. And just where do you plan on goin' after you 'disappear?'" he asked.

His condescending attitude grated on her nerves. "That's none of your business!" she snapped, petite face now clouding over with anger.

" _None of my business!"_ George yelled, making Alanna jump. "Since _when_ is it not my business to know where a friend is headed if they go around _beggin'_ for my help!"

Alanna glared. "I can take care of myself." Her voice dripped ice. "And you are _not_ my father or brother or _anyone_ , not even my _family_. Don't you _dare_ tell me what I can or can't do."

George stood up and thrust his arm towards Alanna's face. She put her hand up in a defensive form, thinking he was going to hit her. His voice grew gentler as he noticed her uneasiness. "Lass, I wouldn't lay a finger on you. You know that. Now look here, at my arms." She looked, curious as to what point he was trying to prove.

He pulled his sleeve back, revealing angry scars running up his arms. "You know I've been knife-fighting since I was a smaller lad than yourself." Alanna nodded.

George continued, "If someone can lay a knife to my arm before I can lay one to their throat, then they can slash your throat before you could even think to scream. How are you supposed to defend yourself out in the middle of nowhere?" Alanna lowered her eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right.

"You act as if I haven't been trained in combat for the last four years," she muttered.

"Dirty knife-fighting and armed combat between warriors who respect the Code of Chivalry isn't the same thing. You know that, lass, I taught you a bit of that myself," George reminded her gently.

"I know," Alanna said.

"And you yourself said your body was developin'. Within any number of years, your womanliness will become more obvious. Especially in years away from the palace life, letting your body go soft and your hair grow long. If you weren't somewhere around people you could trust… no family, nothin'… you know that dishonorable men would sooner hurt a woman… emotionally… before they would kill her. And while you can fight, how many will it take to wear you down?"

George pulled Alanna up from her seat, and her eyes away from the floor. Her tear-filled purple eyes met his hazel ones, and George leaned closer. "Besides," he whispered in her ear, "D'you really think you can run away from me that easily?" He kissed her on top of her head, brushing her wild curls away from her face.

"George…" Alanna said, pushing him away from her, "No. Not now." She broke down in tears again. "George, I don't _want_ to leave. I _have_ to leave. Their Majesties will kill me if they find out. Which they will, at rate this is going. I can lower my voice and cut my hair, but I _can't_ control what my body does without my permission!"

"Think it over," he said, then added with a glare from Alanna, " _I'll_ think it over. But you still have to consider all the possibilities. Don't rush it. You could just being overreactin'."

"I'd like to think I'm in charge of my own feelings, at the very least, thanks," she muttered, her arms now folded across her chest. He looked at her pointedly, and she sighed.

"Okay, I'll give it a second thought. But only for one day. I'll be back here tomorrow, after dark." She frowned. "You know I can't play sick forever. Eventually they're going to notice something is wrong."

George chuckled. "Or worse, they'll notice something is wrong, and force you to come out to the practice courts with them again anyway."

She allowed herself a tiny smile, and whispered, "With luck, it will take them a _long_ time."

He winked. "Master Gary is quick. I'm sure all those noble lads will be bangin' on your door in two days' time if you don't do somethin'."

She sighed. "Let's just hope I can think of what that _something_ is."


	4. Talking Nonsensically

Alanna trudged through the streets of Corus, too put out by her conversation with George to actually pay attention to _where_ she was going. When she found herself in an unfamiliar alley, she began cursing so fervently it would make a guardsman cover his ears. She poked her head back out into the streets and focused on the lights at the top of the hill that she knew belonged to the palace.

Swearing again as she calculated the distance back, she crouched on the ground, attempting to conjure up a dim fire with her Gift to better view her surroundings. But instead of a fire, a cloud of green smoke rose up out of her hands where the fire would normally appear. It clouded her vision, making her eyes smart. She rubbed them while cursing her inability to produce even a simple light-bringing spell.

As the smoke cleared, Alanna saw a figure enter the dark alleyway. She stood up and drew a large dagger from her belt, thrusting it out in front of her in a defensive stance. The figure laughed, making the hairs on Alanna's neck stand on end.

"My daughter, how is it you think to guard yourself with nothing but a mere dagger?" Alanna faltered at the sound, her ears ringing from the odd voice. She took a step back, still keeping the dagger out in front of her.

 _How does this person know I'm a girl?_ Alanna glanced down at her chest, praying to the Goddess that nothing was hanging out. Everything appeared intact.

"Do not worry, my daughter. Your secret is still safe." It laughed again, the sound reminding Alanna of glass breaking upon a metallic floor. The figure added with a blinding smile, "Nothing is 'hanging out.'"

Alanna gasped, staring at the figure as she took a step backwards. She summoned her Gift, holding the light of it out in front of her with her free hand. " _Goddess?_ " she whispered.

The Great Mother Goddess gave her another brilliant smile, and whispered softly, "So the child _does_ recognize its mother. Most mortals need more hints than that."

Alanna sat down upon the ground, her eyes growing wide. The Goddess sat across from her, emerald-colored clothing fanning out at her sides. Alanna twitched, suddenly afraid of the news that warranted a visit from the Goddess herself.

"What d'you want from me?" she asked, trembling slightly.

"Just to talk, my child." The Goddess smiled, revealing even, pearly white teeth. "It is not often that I am privileged to speak with one of my children."

Alanna relaxed a bit and tucked her dagger back into its sheath. "Okay, we can talk," she said, dubiously.

"Now, I see you are considering leaving the palace, correct?" The Goddess grew more serious, staring at Alanna with her piercing green eyes. Alanna nodded mutely. "You are correct in your assumptions that you are developing more. The time where I place my mark of femininity on you has already begun."

Alanna swallowed, "That means I'm starting to grow up, then, right?"

The Goddess nodded, a hint of a smile playing across her lips. "The calculations you have made of your friends are also correct. They have begun to notice the change as well. Your secret will be out in three month's time if you decide to stay."

Alanna sighed. "So I have to leave, then?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"Not exactly. I cannot see your exact fate, only dim outlines. Men of power will be very angry when they find out, though it will not be a friend who betrays you. Your future appears very bleak if you decide to stay."

Alanna gulped, "And if I go?"

The Goddess stood up, looking down into Alanna's face. "That I do not know. I can see the reactions of others if you stay, but what you yourself do is a mystery. You are unique, and I have no way of seeing what you can get yourself into. Only time—and you— will tell."

The light of Alanna's gift began to swirl out from her hand, wrapping itself around the Great Mother Goddess. "You know who is loyal to you. Trust in your friends. They respect you more than you think."

Alanna yelled, "Can't you give me a more solid piece of advice?"

But the yell fell on deaf ears, as the Goddess had already gone.

* * *

Alanna moaned when she heard the knocking at her door. "Leave me alone! I'm tired!" she yelled, trying to stifle the noise by covering her ears with her pillow.

"Alan?" Jon's voice could be heard coming from the corridor outside, slightly muffled through the hard wood of the door.

Alanna groaned. "Your Highness, I'm not decent. Give me a few moments to get myself cleaned up, please." She rolled out of bed, wincing as her feet hit the cold stone floor.

Jon called, "Hurry up, then. I'll be back for you in a few minutes."

Alanna failed to respond, but instead scrambled over to the chamber pot. She relieved herself, then pulled her loincloth back up. She glanced down, and, resisting the urge to scream, realized it was "that time" of the month again. She found a new loincloth and added strips of cloth, and then threw the blood soaked ones into her laundry hamper.

She stumbled over to her trunk and pulled out a new tunic, throwing her dirty one that she had left on from the night before onto the floor. She pulled the clean tunic over her bandaged chest, not wanting to bother with readjusting the bandages. She then changed her leggings, in light of the fact her monthlies had bled through those as well. She threw them into the hamper just as she heard Jon's knock at the door.

Smoothing out her clothes, she hurried to answer the door. Jon stood there impatiently, with a half smile on his face and his arms folded. "Alan, I think I left my, uh, handkerchief when I was in here the other day. Mind if I check?"

Alanna gave him a wry smile. " _Your_ handkerchief? Since when do _you_ carry a handkerchief?"

Jon's face flushed, and he averted his gaze. "Um, since a particular lady gave one to me?"

Alanna rolled her eyes and gestured for him to come in. "Fine. Come right in."

Jon followed her back into her room and headed for her desk. He paused, then bent down, her dirty tunic in his hands. He grinned at her, and said, "Dear me, Alan needs to learn how to clean his room properly, doesn't he?" Jon headed over to the laundry hamper with the dirty shirt as Alanna searched her room for "Jon's" handkerchief. She was rifling through the papers on her desk when she heard Jon speak to her.

"Care to explain this?" Jon called. Alanna came over, and looked where he was staring: into her laundry hamper, where her bloody clothing lay.


	5. Reprimand from a Knight

Alanna's mouth went dry as she racked her brain for a possible excuse. _Think, you're a squire, you've seen plenty of blood!_ "Your—your Highness, I. . . I cut myself. Polishing my knife," she stammered.

Jon broke his gaze from the bloody clothing and turned to stare at her, a quizzical expression on his face. "That much blood from just a little cut?" he asked, a dubious note in his voice.

"Yes. . . it was a pretty deep gash." Alanna's heart was thumping in her chest, making her afraid that he would hear it and suspect she was not being entirely truthful.

Jon glanced back at the clothing, a look of confusion spreading over his face. "Is that. . . is that on your loincloth?" he asked incredulously.

 _Mithros, no. Please Goddess, help me._ "Er . . ." was all the help that Alanna got vocalizing her response.

Jon cocked his head, and gave her a confused smile. "Look, Alan, if you don't want to talk to me about this, let's take you to a healer. Any healer could help you more than I could."

Alanna's heart wasn't beating out of control any more. It felt like it had stopped. " _No!_ Highness, really, I'm fine!" she exclaimed.

Jon's features contorted with worry. "Alan, as your knightmaster, I am obligated to make sure that you're in the best of health. Come on, let's go see if Duke Baird is in. It'll only take a minute or two."

If it were possible to die from horror, Alanna would have been dead two minutes ago. As it was, she knew the color was fleeing from her face. _Now it_ really _looks like I'm sick_ , she thought miserably. "Your Highness, really, I'm okay. There's no problem."

Nonplussed, Jon glared at her.

She shifted, embarrassed by this conversation, and scared he would interrogate her further.

He didn't. Instead, he lectured. "Alan, I know you don't like to admit when something's wrong, but every man needs to recognize when it's okay to keep his mouth shut or when he should visit a healer. And right now, you need a healer.

Alanna found her voice. "I've got it covered, I promise. Highness, please, leave me alone about it. I'm not a little boy any more."

Jon was growing impatient. "Fine, Alan, but whatever it is, when it gets worse, don't come to crying to me when you can't handle it."

Alanna glared at him. "Fine. I wasn't planning on it." She noticed a square of light green fabric wedged under her laundry hamper, and bent down to yank it out. Spotting the letter "D" embroidered in green floss, she gave him a sarcastic smile. "I'm sure the lady of Eldorne wouldn't be too pleased to know how careless you are with her possessions."

Jon snatched it away from her, his face flushing crimson. "Thank you, Alan." He marched out of the room, appearing to have forgotten all about their argument. Alanna breathed a sigh of relief, locking the door in place behind him.

She went back to the laundry hamper and pulled out her bloody loincloth and a near-ruined shirt. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she hunted for her wastebasket. She wrapped the loincloth up in the old shirt, then threw it into the wastebasket, burying it under a few pieces of old homework. Resolving to dispose of the trash herself, she plopped back onto her bed and prayed to the goddess that Jon wouldn't think any more about the bloody loincloth.

* * *

The Goddess either hadn't heard Alanna's prayer, or perhaps did not care to aid her any further in her struggles. For Jonathan had indeed been thinking more about what he had found. Moreover, he was thinking about his squire's strange reaction to his discovery. If it were any regular injury, he was sure, Alan wouldn't have been so downright _embarrassed_ about it. Alan was a strange boy, but this exceeded what Jon knew to be his "normal" oddities.

 _Whatever was wrong,_ he thought, _Alan definitely wasn't planning on seeing a healer any time soon._ He sat down on his bed, wrinkling the blankets that he had so carefully made the bed with while waiting for Alan to wake up. He wrung Delia's handkerchief out in his hands, perplexed by Alan's unusual behavior. Casually, he tossed the handkerchief onto his bed and left his chambers.

The healers' ward wasn't a long walk from the wing he was staying in, thankfully. Jon didn't relish a long trek to the healers just because his squire's ego was so swollen that he refused to make the trip himself when he was sick. He moved at a fast pace, waving awkwardly when the occasional servant dropped the loads they were carrying to bow or curtsy deeply to him.

He reached the healers' ward and searched for a particular room. He read the brass nameplate that labeled one of the doors and knocked loudly, tapping his foot impatiently as he stood in the hall.

A man opened the door and smiled when he recognized the visitor, dipping his head in a short gesture of respect. "Prince Jonathan. What a pleasant surprise. Is this a social visit, or a professional one?"

Jonathan smiled as well, though his was more strained. "Sorry to say that it's a professional one. I have a few questions regarding a. . . a friend of mine. Mind if I ask?"

Duke Baird smiled, and gestured for him to come in. "Why, of course," he said as he turned to head back into his office. He gathered some glass jars off a chair into his arms and motioned for Jon to sit. He placed the jars on a shelf full of other odd-looking instruments and containers labeled with names like "Burn Ointment." He shifted some books on his desk as he settled himself into his chair, then focused on Jon, who was lowering himself into the seat opposite him. "Now, what seems to be the problem?" Baird asked.

Jon gathered his thoughts, trying to find the best way to construct his question. "This. . . friend of mine," he began, "had blood on him. . ." he faltered, not wanting to mention any more specifics.

Duke Baird gave Jon a half smile, and said teasingly, "Well now, haven't say I've heard of anyone having blood on them. Care to be more specific, your Highness?"

Jon blushed. "Actually, he didn't mention it to me. I... I... I saw his loincloth, and when I asked about it, he wouldn't explain how he was injured." He added as an afterthought, "It was covered in blood."

Baird frowned. He didn't like the sound of this. "Well, this sounds more serious. What friend of yours was this, your Highness? I may need to speak with him."

Jon shifted in his seat. "Er... it was Alan, your Grace. My squire, Alan of Trebond. I was in his rooms this morning, and he seemed embarrassed about my questions. Do you know what's wrong with him?"

The wrinkles in the duke's forehead creased further as he pondered the information. "Alan... Yes, I'll talk to him later. No, your Highness, it's nothing to be concerned with. Everything is fine, I'm sure."

Jon stood up, and shook hands with the Duke. "Thank you, your Grace. Alan's stubborn... I know he wouldn't have visited you otherwise, and I worry about him sometimes..."

The Duke stood up with him and gave him a small smile. "Only natural to worry about the ones we care about." Baird walked him to the door, and ushered him out. "Feel free to come back if you have any other questions that you think I can answer."

Baird watched as Jon walked down the corridor and turned the corner.

 _Time for a talk with Squire Alan._


	6. Duke Baird

Alanna rolled over on her bed, wanting to pretend she didn't hear that knock at her door. She suppressed a groan, as knocks seemed to be bringing nothing but bad news lately. It also did not help that she was on the brink of falling back asleep when that knock came.

She heaved her tired flesh off the bed, and called loudly as she made her way to the door, "Who's there?"

Another knock, this time louder, was her answer. She frowned, and stood on her tiptoes to unlatch the door. She pulled it open, again asking, "Who _is_ it?"

A regal man stood in her doorway, looking slightly impatient. Recognizing the duke of Queenscove, Alanna blushed, murmuring as she bowed, "Forgive me, your Grace. I didn't realize who it was."

Baird smiled half-heartedly. "Apparently not. Squire Alan, a word, if you please."

Alanna blushed again. "Of course. D'you want to speak in your office?"

"No, no, your rooms will do fine. Do you mind if I come in?" Duke Baird was already letting himself in, pulling the door open, despite the fact that Alanna's fingers were clenching it in fear. Alanna stood back, eyes wide, as the Duke walked into her rooms. He hastily shut the door behind him, not bothering to latch or lock it. Alanna pulled up her desk chair and another chair for herself and the Duke.

Baird took the chair Alanna had offered to him and sat down, waiting to speak until Alanna followed suit. She too sat, turning her head up to face the Duke. She lowered her eyes when his startling green ones stared at her, a curious expression on his face.

"Squire, your knightmaster requested that I see you." Alanna gulped, silently cursing Jon and his overly concerned nature.

"W-what about, your Grace?" she asked, attempting to keep the trembling note out of her voice.

"He mentioned that you had hurt yourself and wanted me to examine you," he said, raising one eyebrow inquisitively.

Alanna said, a little too loudly, "I didn't injure myself badly. 'Twas just a scratch."

"Where, Alan? Show me."

Alanna wrung her hands in her lap. "Your Grace, it was nothing. It's already healed."

"From what I hear this was no ordinary cut," Duke Baird said softly.

Alanna remained silent.

"Prince Jonathan mentioned that when he went to your rooms earlier, he noticed your loincloth was rather soaked in blood. Care to explain that?" he asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

She stuttered, "I... I… I cut myself, sir. I think I sat on some—" Duke Baird cut Alanna off, suddenly impatient.

"Squire, you need to think of a better excuse than that." He gave her a small smile as he mocked her lying abilities.

"It's the truth, honest! Why would I lie about something like that?" Alanna exclaimed, not noticing her voice go up several octaves.

Duke Baird gave her a wry smile. "Squire Alan, you know as well as I do that a loincloth covered in blood can indicate one thing—that it belongs to a woman."

Alanna froze, managing to croak out, "No, no, I cut myself."

Baird now frowned at her. "Squire, a woman has been in your rooms."

Both of them jumped when someone's loud voice boomed in the hallway. Duke Baird stiffened and turned around towards the door, but then refocused his attention upon Alanna.

She relaxed, thankful he suspected something of an entirely different nature. She started to play along, pretending to say in a feeble voice, "No, your Grace, that's impossible. I haven't let any woman in my rooms. Perhaps a maid was—"

Baird cut her off again. "Squire Alan, please stop trying to skirt the issue. The woman is you, isn't it?"

So much for playing along.

* * *

Gary jogged down the corridor toward Alan's rooms, whistling the same tune that he knew had irked Alan so much the day before. He hoped that Alan would be up for a good whopping on the practice courts—or vice versa. He finally reached the right hall, only to stop short when he heard the quiet hum of voices. Curious, he walked slower, only to hear Alan assert, "It's the truth, honest! Why would I lie about something like that?"

Still more curious, Gary sidled up to Alan's door, and realized that he could hear so well because the door was slightly ajar. He leaned in closer to the door, and heard a man say, "Squire Alan, you know as well as I do that a loincloth covered in blood can indicate one thing—that it belongs to a woman."

Drawing back in confusion, Gary stared at the door, puzzled. The conversation inside, however, did not waver.

"No, no, I cut myself."

"Squire, a woman has been in your rooms."

Gary's eyes grew wide in shock. He leaned closer to hear more.

A loud voice broke his focus. "You, Gary! Up for me beating you to a pulp on the practice courts?" Raoul called. "I was just about to ask Jon to come, but I suppose you'll do."

Gary grinned, then put his fingers to his lips, gesturing to the door. He walked closer to Raoul, then loudly whispered, "Forget Jon. You'll never guess what I just heard Alan getting in trouble for!"


	7. The Secret Revealed

Alanna felt all of the color that had risen to her face during her discussion with the Duke fall away, leaving her obscenely pale. Weakly, she raised her hand, attempting to blow off the accusation. "Your Grace, I'm insulted. Is this your idea of a joke?" She laughed shakily, but halted when she saw the look of grave sincerity etched onto Duke Baird's face.

Duke Baird said kindly, "Alan, this isn't a laughing matter. I apologize if I am being offensive, but I am entirely serious. If you are denying my claim, then kindly prove to me that you are indeed a young man by removing your tunic." Catching the look of utter disbelief on Alanna's face, he nodded grimly. "I thought so."

Alanna sat in silence, avoiding the Duke's gentle gaze. She stood and began sweeping things off her dresser and throwing them into her trunk, which she had pulled out from under her bed and flipped the unlatched lid open with her foot. Baird watched in interest as she messily stuffed her possessions into the trunk. "Ala—er, Squire—what in Mithros' name are you doing?"

"Please, don't tell anyone. They don't have to know why I left. If they ask, can you just say I was gravely ill or something and had to return home?" Hating herself for pleading, she angrily shoved the remaining items off her dresser, breaking more than one object in the process.

The Duke cocked his head, much like a dog, and appraised her. "Squire, I have no intention of revealing your secret just now. Frankly, I do not believe it is much of my business, but at the Prince's insistence I came."

Alanna stared at him, bewildered. "So you won't tell anyone—Duke Gareth, the King, the Prince—anyone, about me being a girl?"

The Duke gave her a half smile. "Not now. You will."

Alanna pulled her eyes away, and resumed her packing. Baird sighed. "Alan—or what is it you are called? Where do you come from, anyway?"

"Alanna, your Grace. And I'm not lying about that, I _am_ a Trebond. Alan of Trebond does not exist, unless you count my father." The Duke inclined his head as Alanna stared at the ground, recalling the news to himself that Alan's—Alanna's—father had recently passed on. He averted his eyes, waiting for her to continue.

"My brother Thom was supposed to come here, but I came in his place. He went to the convent to begin mage studies. And... and that's pretty much it."

The Duke nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Anyone else know?"

"No one at the palace, your Grace," Alanna said. Baird raised his eyebrows inquisitively at the words "at the palace," but as he didn't press the matter, Alanna ignored the expression. Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked in an accusatory tone, "And what do you mean, ' _Not now_?'"

He inclined his head gracefully, saying, "Precisely what I said, Squire. I will not reveal your secret now, but if it does not come out soon, I'm afraid I will have to inform your training master, Duke Gareth, of this matter." Now he waited for her to look up from the ground. Catching her eye, he said, "Despite the credit that you give to Sir Myles, I know that you did a great service to this country when you saved the prince years ago. Which is why I will hold your secret until you are ready. I do not doubt your loyalty to this country in any way, Squire, but the law is the law."

He leaned back, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling, "His Highness would vouch for you, I'm sure, if it came down to whether or not you can stay and train. At least come clean with him, and see what he has to say. I could get in a great deal of trouble knowing this and not coming forward, but if Prince Jonathan also is aware, their Majesties would hesitate to punish either you or me."

Alanna hung her head and whispered, "I didn't mean for this to affect anyone else. I'm sorry."

The Duke gave her a wry smile. "You're sorry you are masquerading as a boy, or that you got caught?" Alanna blushed and opened her mouth to speak, but the Duke waved his hand at her. "No matter; that's not what is important now. What _is_ important, however, is when you plan on telling this little secret of yours."

Alanna bit her lip as she thought, recalling words the Goddess had spoken just the night before: ' _Your secret will be out in three month's time if you decide to stay_.' She swallowed, and said, "I'll tell soon, I promise. Give me three months."

The Duke nodded his head, still deep in thought. "Very well Squire Alan—Alanna—you will inform either Duke Gareth or His Majesty that you are indeed a woman, or I will write an anonymous letter informing Duke Gareth that Squire Alan is not all that 'he' appears to be."

He added wearily, "Telling the Prince would be your first step. I'm sure that if you level with him, he would come with you and vouch for you."

"Thank you, your Grace," Alanna said. Recognizing the end of their conversation, she walked over to the door. She squinted as she realized it was cracked open a little bit, and made a silent prayer to the gods that no one had happened to come across their conversation. She pulled it open for him to leave, bowing her head in respect. The Duke returned the gesture as he left, looking a bit jaded.

What he was feeling at the moment was nothing compared to what she was feeling, however. Still in a state of shock, she followed the duke out of her rooms, locking them behind her. Unsure of where to go next, she decided to seek out the Prince. She tried his rooms first, feeling a little better when she heard him call out to her that he'd be there in a minute. Trying to compose her flushed face and her shaking limbs, she gave him a rather fake smile when he opened the door.

His smile, on the other hand, was genuine. "Alan! I was just about to come find you," he said, ushering her in with a wave of his hand. She took the hint and followed him back to his rooms, which were much more spacious than hers. Instead of pulling up a chair, she plopped herself down on his bed.

Alanna asked, "So what were you coming to find me for, anyway?"

Jon sat down at his desk chair, where Alanna noticed he had been working on either letters or drawings, unsure of which one. She grinned when she caught sight of one of the drawings, a particularly horrendous one that she wasn't quite able to make out who or what it was intended to be. She shook off her curiosity when he noticed her staring at the drawings and stuffed them under another pile of papers. Turning to her, he said, "There's a ball tomorrow, in honor of some or the other foreign royalty. As my squire, you've got to be there."

Alanna groaned, not at all trying to suppress it. He grinned, teasing her, "Avoiding someone?"

She grumbled, "No one in particular, this time."

He grinned, "Lady Delia has made a particular point of making sure you'd reserve a dance for her, especially after hearing even _more_ than I dreamed possible about you beating the pride out of that Dain of Melor."

"Wish it was you that had beat him now, don't you?" she said, a malicious glint in her eye. Pursing his lips, he said nothing. Alanna grinned. _That certainly shut him up for the time being_ , she thought. _Must be true._ Trying to ignore the less amusing thoughts lurking at the back of her head (most of them being along the lines of, _"You need to tell him! You need to tell him! Now is perfect!"_ ), she asked him, "Anything else I need to know about this ball?"

Seriousness now covering his pout, he said, "Ah, yes. You have proper attire, I presume?"

Alanna nodded. "The stuff I wore last time is fine, right?"

"Yes, yes, that'll do," Jon said. Alanna tried to grab the pile of drawings off his desk, but Jon's hand was quicker. He stuffed the whole pile to the other side of the desk, far out of her immediate reach.

Sighing, Alanna hopped off his bed, still ignoring the thoughts that were metaphorically beating her ( _"Tell him NOW! He needs to know! You're alone! There's no better time!_ ). Gritting her teeth, she said, "I've got to go write some letters, so I'm going back to my room, okay?"

Jon nodded and pulled the stack of drawings closer to him, not bothering to turn to face her. "Be ready tomorrow. I won't have my squire late to the ball. Should start a little bit before dark."

Alanna didn't answer him, but instead groaned internally. Pulling out the key to her rooms, she heard a meow around the region of her knee. She looked down, and scooped up her cat, Faithful. She scratched him behind the ear and set him over her shoulder, asking, "Where've you been? It feels like forever since I've seen you."

 _Out and about_ , Faithful offered, rather unhelpfully.

Alanna scowled at him. "I suppose you have stuff that's too secret for a mere mortal like me to understand?"

 _That's right_ , the cat agreed, purring into her shoulder.


	8. A Ball

By sitting in one of the nooks by the window, Alanna could watch the sun as it slipped from view, throwing the sky into an array of cheery oranges and bright pinks.

Pink. Vivid pink, a color only the most daring of ladies would wear. A certain daring lady, in fact, was clad in that very color and was now sauntering over towards Alanna with a fair number of adoring knights and love-struck (or, as Alanna saw it, lust-struck) squires in tow. The woman's body swayed seductively in time to the music, but it was clear she was not trying to dance when she came to a halt in front of Alanna's hiding place. The men who had been following her like lost puppies jostled to stand next to her, the losing ones arranging themselves in a half circle. The lady folded her arms as if she was cross, but Alanna knew better when she stuck out her hip as well, drawing the eyes of all of the men present to her curvaceous figure.

"Squire Alan, having you been hiding from me here all this time? I think it's time for you to join the big boys now," she quipped, initiating laughing and teasing from the men, all of whom Alanna noted to be significantly larger than herself. Then the woman offered a more pleasant smile when she noticed Alanna's cold stare, causing the other men to halt their snickering. "Come now, Alan, I'm just teasing you. But really, you must join us!" Pulling an obviously unwilling Alanna to her feet, she practically dragged her across the ballroom toward a larger group made up of young men and ladies from the convent.

Alanna watched with amusement as the ritual of fighting for the right to stand next to the woman was abandoned after the large Raoul had walked up to her other side upon her return to the group. Again the circle formed around her, many of the faces making bad attempts to mask their jealousy.

Fluttering her eyelashes shamelessly, Delia of Eldorne couldn't keep her hands off the young squire as she tried to get 'him' to communicate with more than the occasional shrug of the shoulders or nod of the head. Alanna grimaced, though quickly covered it up with a pained smile when she received a stern glare from Jonathan, whom had positioned himself directly in front of Delia. Jonathan, though decked out magnificently in a tunic of deep blue with silver details, was more noticeably wearing a look of profound annoyance. Delia did not seem to notice, however, and was staring intently into Alanna's deep purple eyes with her equally deep green ones.

"Squire, you must tell me everything about that amazing duel between you and that foreigner scum!" she pleaded, pouting her beautifully painted lips.

Alanna winced, gently attempting to pry Delia's fingers from her arm, where they had been ever since she had dragged Alanna over. She discovered instead that the woman had a grip stronger than she believed possible from such a delicate-looking lady. Sighing, she said, "Really, Lady Delia, it was nothing. He was cocky and had a bit too much to drink, that's all."

Raoul leaned around Delia and prodded Alanna gently in the back, grinning slightly. "'It was nothing,' he says. Alan, always too modest for his own good. You're allowed to take credit when you accomplish something, squire," he said.

Alanna blushed, and glanced down from Delia's eyes that were now boring into her own. "It really wasn't a big deal," she murmured as she looked back up, then had to avert her eyes again from the simpering look Delia gave her.

Pretending to turn her attention away from Alanna, Delia wistfully announced to the many hopeful looking lads, "Oh, I _adore_ this song!" Several of the knights stepped forward to ask her to dance, but she cut them off and turned back to Alanna, asking, "Squire? Please, give me an example of the fine dance skills that the palace teaches!"

Alanna's lips were already forming the word "no," but yet another stern gaze from Jon proved that this would not have been the best idea. She blushed again, the red coloring of her face in conjunction with her hair making her look like a sickly tomato. She said through gritted teeth, "I'd be happy to, my lady."

Delia threw her arms around Alanna, guiding her like a horse. Alanna was dimly aware that _she_ should be the one guiding, but brushed that fact aside as she pondered how ridiculous she must look dancing with a woman at least a half foot taller. As the music slowed and changed to a new song, Alanna took the opportunity to guide them back over to the cluster of Delia's admirers, whereupon both she and Lady Delia let go of one another.

Alanna rejoined the group, but Delia did not have the opportunity to as a knight, quite a few years older than her, had already whisked her off for the next dance. Gary gave Alanna a knowing smirk, making her blush furiously. "Fun, wasn't it, Alan? Dancing always gives me a rush."

Alanna grimaced. "Funny, it always gives me a headache."

Gary chided her, "Come now, Alan, surely there is _some_ woman you'd like to dance with?" When Alanna shook her head, Gary added, "Or do you skip that step when courting a woman, Alan?"

The other knights laughed, giving their agreement that _they_ would certainly skip that part if it sped the relationship along. Not liking where they seemed to be going, Alanna frowned. "I'm just not that interested in girls yet, that's all."

Raoul grinned, "Sure about that, Alan? Or is there something you're keeping a secret about?"

Alanna shook her head in confusion, asking, "What in Mithros' name are you talking about?"

Gary gave Alanna a suggestive wink and said, "You know perfectly well what we're talking about, young squire. We overheard a little lecture you received."

Raoul added, "You couldn't be so adamantly against Lady Delia's advances because of _someone else_ , now could you be?"

Racking her brain for said lecture, Alanna eyed them in horror as she recalled, " _Squire, a woman has been in your rooms._ " Chuckling feebly, Alanna said, "No, no women for me yet."

Gary shook his head. "Alan, Alan, Alan. We know you're... er... 'involved' with someone. Now tell us, who is it?"

Alanna scoured her brain, trying to come up with a possible excuse that wouldn't involve damaging the reputation of any of the ladies. Coming up with nothing, she said, "Um, no one. Er, no one that you know."

Raoul grinned, then said, "Well then, Alan, we're just going to have to meet her, now aren't we?"

Alan said, voice entering a dangerously high level, "No, you don't! It's none of your business!"

Jon stepped forward, saying, "Alan, a word, please?"

Gary sighed, frowning at Jon. "But we were just getting started!"

Jon gave him a wan smile. "I'll give you your friend back to pick on in a moment."

Jon left the circle, with Alanna following close behind. He guided her over to a table, filled with tureens of food and roasted boar piled high on a decorative platter. This, at least, was away from their circle of friends, for the pretty women all avoided the food like the plague and the men followed them wherever they went. "Now, Alan, tell me what this is all about. I know you do not like attending balls, but you are acting even more... oh, I don't know, odd than normal. Now tell me, whatever is the matter?"

Alanna took a deep breath, with a half a mind to tell him everything. She stopped when she spotted Duke Roger hovering a few yards away, filling a glass with wine that was already threatening to spill over.

"I'll tell you later. I promise," Alanna said, eyes pleading.

"Very well, I suppose. Now, who _is_ this woman you've been seeing?"


	9. The Ball, and George

Roger poured the wine absent-mindedly into his glass, unaware that a steady trickle was now flowing down the brim and onto the table. He stared at the pair thoughtfully, trying to guess what they were talking about. He knew that the boy Alan was hiding something; there was no doubt about that. He strained his neck trying to hear the last of their conversation, and smiled when he heard the words, "I'll tell you later."

* * *

Alanna thanked the gods that Jon's head was too wrapped up with thoughts of Delia to notice when she left the group, bored out of her mind. She was planning on returning to her rooms, but then noticed Sir Myles staring at her. When he realized that he had caught her eye, he gestured for her to come over. "Enjoying the ball, my dear boy?" he asked jovially as he refilled the tankard that he had just emptied.

She shuddered and told him, "I'd rather wrestle a rabid bear, thanks."

Myles chuckled. "I have no doubt that you would, Squire. Dancing doesn't seem to be your favorite pastime."

Alanna gave him a small grin, and asked, "You won't be needing help up to your rooms today, will you?"

Myles smiled back at her and slurred, "I very well might, but I wouldn't want to finish my cup too fast. Since you seem to be in such a hurry to leave, I suppose I'll manage without you."

Alanna smiled in relief. "Thanks, Sir Myles."

He waved her away, and returned to his ale.

Alanna, a smile stretching across her face, left the ballroom, determined not to look at Jon and her other knighted friends making fools of themselves over the ladies for fear of laughing outright at them. The crowded ballroom, though difficult to navigate when trying to search for someone, proved relatively easy to leave. She exited through large, ornate doors, their beauty lost on her after the frequent number of times she had walked through them during other balls.

The smile left her face when someone knocked into her, causing her to trip and fall flat on her face. The other person stumbled, then regained their balance and continued walking in the opposite direction. Alanna stood up and brushed herself off, calling out, "Watch where you're going!"

The other person glanced back, and Alanna caught a glimpse of Duke Roger's reddened face, droplets of sweat giving his forehead a shiny appearance. She was slightly confused, for she was positive she had seen him at the ball, but quickly shrugged it off. She had other things on her mind, like how on earth she was going to tell Jonathan...

* * *

She blinked awake to the sunlight streaming through her open window, hating the sight of the cheerful sun and beautiful sky. The sight of them was especially unkind to someone who had difficulties sleeping, trying to think of ways to break the news to her friends that she wasn't the person who they thought she was.

"Good mornin', sleepyhead," a rough voice said. She jumped, startled, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"George Cooper, may the gods curse you! How long have you been in here?" Alanna exclaimed, drawing the covers up over herself.

"Long enough to learn that my dear squire has an oh-so-slight snore," he said, hazel eyes twinkling.

"I do not sn... George, I had those damn curtains shut for a reason! I like being able to sleep without that dreadful sun coming out to wake me up!" Alanna exclaimed, now pulling the blankets up to her eyes to block out the sun.

"And those damn curtains were awful hard to get through too, I might add." George chuckled and went to the window, pulling the curtains closed. "Better now?" he asked.

"Much," came the muffled reply from under the covers. She reluctantly pulled them down to get a better look at him. A dagger dangled at his waist, its leather sheath sticky with blood. Eyeing it reproachfully, she asked, "Rough night?"

Seeing where she was staring, he took the dagger from the sheath and a handkerchief from his pocket. He spit on the dagger, cleaning it. "Don't worry; he'll live," he said, a roguish twinkle in his hazel eyes. As the dagger returned to its normal silver color, George said, "I suppose you can guess why I'm here."

Alanna sighed. "Just as I'm wishing this problem will go away, you have to remind me."

"That's what I'm here for, lass. So have you decided to stay?" George asked gently.

Alanna bit her lip in contemplation, then said, "Well, I _want_ to."

"What do you mean, ' _want_ to?'" George prodded.

"Jon had to be such a caring _prick_ when he accidentally saw my... er... the results of my latest feminine cycle, and told Duke Baird because he thought I was sick or something and now Duke Baird knows that I'm a girl, but Jon didn't guess it. He, the Duke, I mean, promised to keep quiet for three months, as long as I tell sometime in the next three months. Oh, and did I mention I had a visit from the Goddess? She told me—"

"A goddess?" George asked, interrupting her.

Alanna glared at him. "No, _the_ Goddess," she said. "Why, you don't believe me?"

George threw up his hands in submission. "No, no, I believe you. Carry on, then."

Alanna gritted her teeth and said, "And _the_ Goddess told me that my secret'll be out in three months time at the _most_ if I kept doing what I was doing. And I have to tell Jon _soon_ because I promised last night I'd tell him what was up and I still don't know how I'm going to tell him!" she finished, face flushed.

George looked disturbed by the news. "Lass, _now_ if you plan on runnin' away, I'd understand it fully."

Alanna was on the verge of tears. "But I _don't_ want to run away any more. I want to be a knight! I've worked hard with training for most of my life, and I can't just give it up _now._ "

George placed his knife back in its sheath and attached it to his waist. He came over to the bed and sat down on it, staring at his hands in thought. "Their majesties are merciful, and there's no doubt that they're grateful that you saved their son from the Sweatin' Sickness. You just may be able to stay, especially if you have the Prince backin' you." He looked up at Alanna, who was avoiding his eye. "Tell Jonathan, lass. He's your best chance."

Alanna finally looked up at him. "D'you really think he'll understand?"

George smiled. " _I_ understood, Alanna. If your Prince is half the man I think he is, he'll understand too."

Alanna gave him a shallow smile, and said, "I sure hope so."

He wanted to laugh at the deception. A girl? The squire was bolder than he had thought.

No matter, she'd be easy enough to take care of.


	10. To Duel

"The boy..."

"Which boy, your Grace?"

"The squire, Alan. He's hiding something, and I believe that I have found out what."

Alex raised his eyebrow. "What sort of secret could a mere _squire_ be hiding that would concern you?"

"I need you to lure him to me, Alex."

"As you wish, but can you tell me what for?" he asked.

"He… is not a he. The squire is a girl," he replied.

Alex gasped. "Alan-Squire Alan? Female? Please tell me you jest."

"I assure you, I do not," he answered, his face grave.

"Are you positive? What sort of proof do you have?" Alex pressed.

"I heard it from _her_ own mouth," Roger said. "Of course, she was not aware that I was able to hear her."

Alex just stared at him with his mouth agape, speechless.

"The squire's deception is most unexpected, but that is not what our problem is. We need to get her out of the way, and we need to do it fast, before she reveals this to the court. This is the chance we've been needing, Alex," Roger said.

Alex looked puzzled. "Roger, what can a little boy—" he paused and shook his head. "—girl—do to hurt us? I think you overestimate Alan."

Roger sighed with exasperation. "Alan is clever to have hidden something like that for so long. If he can get away with something like this, what else might he be able to do?" He grimaced, and muttered, "Difficult to remember to say 'she,' isn't it?" He continued, "She, I mean. And what sort of secrets of my young cousin's may _she_ already be hiding? What sorts of influences does she have on the prince? What sort of threat will she be when the final stages of my plan are set into motion?" He paused, and took a deep breath. "We need her out of the way, and I want to be the one to do it. I don't appreciate being fooled, as our young friend will soon learn."

"What are you going to do about it then, Roger?"

* * *

Alanna watched as George carefully shimmied out the window. Once he had his two feet planted firmly upon the ground, he turned his face up to Alanna and blew her a kiss. Alanna stuck her tongue out at him in return, and scowled as she shut the window. Blushing furiously, she pulled her nightclothes off and a fresh tunic on. She bent down to her trunk and fished around for a pair of leggings. Her head was still in the trunk when she heard a soft tap at the door.

"Alan?" a quiet voice inquired. "You awake?"

"Just a moment," she called, pulling a pair of leggings out of the trunk. Hurriedly she pulled them on with her right hand while attempting to run a comb through her wild copper hair with the left. Finally, fully dressed and somewhat presentable, she opened the door.

Alex stood there. "Alan, I was hoping you'd be awake. I was just wondering... would you care to have a practice duel with me?"

Alanna looked at him tentatively, "I supposed so..." she said.

"And after that, maybe one with real swords? We'd wear padding, of course, but we'd play to first blood."

Alanna frowned. "I'm up for a practice duel, but a real one? Maybe some other time. In fact, I really would rather not."

"Come now, Alan, I've been wanting to test my skills against yours. We've both been said to be the best men at court, so why don't we settle this once and for all," he said, a fiercely proud glint in his eye. He smiled a little, softening the somewhat aggressive look on his face.

Alanna raised her eyebrows slightly, hesitating before saying, "I'm a little tired, Alex... the ball was only just last night. Can't we do this some other time?"

Alex smirked, "And why exactly would that matter to you, leaving as early as you did with no young lady in tow?"

Alanna sighed, and said, "That small amount of time I was obligated to be there sapped the life out of me far faster than it would in a battle, so I really would prefer to take it easy today."

"Oh, come on Alan, don't be such a girl."

That struck a nerve. "I'm almost as good a swordsman as you, Alex, but I just wouldn't really appreciate getting half my arm chopped off accidentally because I'm slow and tired, if it's all the same to you."

"At least bring your sword down, in case you change your mind," Alex suggested nonchalantly.

Alanna glared. "Alex, I really don't want to have a real duel."

Alex smirked at her. "Scared I'll beat you, once we get the real swords out?" he asked loftily.

Alanna scowled at him. "Of course not. Fine, I'll bring it, but I'm not promising anything. And at the rate you're nagging me, don't be surprised if _I_ challenge _you_ to a real duel," Alanna mumbled as she went back to her room to get her sword and practice sword. Faithful was stretched out on her desk, still asleep. She smiled at her cat, surprised how he could sleep through George, and now Alex. She gave him a quick scratch on the head, from which he barely stirred. She and Alex then headed down to the practice yard.

"Alan! Alex!" a voice called, and Alanna saw Duke Roger glide across the hallway to them. "Just headed down to the practice courts, I take it?"

They both nodded.

"What luck! I was just wondering; Alan, would you care to have a bout with me? I've dueled against Alex before, but from what I hear and what I've seen, you're practically equal to him." He smiled at her, revealing his perfectly white teeth, but Alanna's face remained expressionless. "Please, squire, would you give me the honor?" Roger pleaded, staring intently at her with his sapphire eyes.

Alanna hesitated, then nodded. "I suppose so," she said.

"Splendid! I don't have a practice sword made for me, so we'll have to use real swords, but I see that that shouldn't be a problem for you as you have yours with you. Well then, let's go!" Roger exclaimed, leading the way.

"Real swords, your Grace?" Alanna asked as she followed him. "The practice swords are readily available to use."

"Nonsense, squire, the weight of those dreadful sticks can never truly match up to a _real_ sword," Roger said. He turned around, catching her eye, and said, "Unless. . .you're scared? Real swords don't hurt terribly so in wounds from a duel such as this." Still noting her hesitation, he added, "And even if they do, we're both mages here."

"I'm not scared," Alanna snapped. They continued to the practice yards in silence.

"We'll wear padding, right?" she finally asked, slightly concerned.

"Oh, of course," Roger said. "Alex, you wouldn't mind getting some padding for us, will you?" he asked as they entered the practice yards. Alanna glanced around, noting the emptiness that day. She didn't see a single person out practicing, though that may have been attributed to the ominous gray clouds that swelled overhead.

Alex turned and left them alone. Roger turned to Alanna. "You wouldn't mind a couple of practice swings, without the padding, would you, squire?" he asked. "I promise not to aim for your flesh," he grinned, when he noticed Alanna's frown.

The grin on his face wavered a bit when he saw the stony look upon Alanna's face. Smiling uncertainly, he raised his sword up. "Come squire, just a few swings."

She ignored him, watching Alex trot off to retrieve the padding.

"Squire, defend yourself!" Roger screeched.

She broke her gaze and turned to face him. Her eyes grew wide as he lunged at her, and she jumped backwards, pulling Lighting from its sheath as she did so. She brought it up to meet Roger's sword, the metals clanging like a bell when they crashed into each other.

"Not right now, please, your Grace," Alanna said as she deftly blocked blows from him.

He ignored her, only increasing the vigor in which he struck.

"Your Grace, please stop!" she yelled at him as she made to defend herself again. She tried to shield her body from blow after blow that rained down upon her. The cold look in his eye scared her more than the swiftness of his sword, and she yelled again, more loudly, " _Stop!_ "

"Scared, Alan?" Roger's smile grew maniacal as sweat dripped down his face. "You should be."

Alanna yelled, "Please, Alex, someone, _help!_ "

"They can't hear you, Alan," Roger said, and laughed. "Nor would them come if they knew what you were, you lying wench," he snarled.

Alanna nearly missed the blow, shocked. "What are you talking about?" she asked, voice quavering.

"You dirty slut, you know what I am talking about!" he spat. "And so will the whole court when I bring them your body and tell them how you tried to kill me and the rest of the royal family!"

Alanna really did miss a blow this time, and Roger's sword slashed into her side. She fell upon the dusty ground with a thud, clutching her side. Blood gushed from the wound, a dark stain blossoming onto her tunic. She touched her side with her hands, and swayed when she saw the glistening red that painted her palms. She placed her hands back on the wound and attempted to heal herself. She poured her magic into the area where the wound was, murmuring, "Goddess, help me. . ."

As she tried to concentrate on this, Roger stood over her. "I've waited for this for a long time, Alan. You certainly were an obstacle to the throne, and now that you are almost out of the way, the path to your dear prince in nearly clear. And your disguise, your deception, will hurt the prince most severely." Alanna's eyes, glazed in pain, looked up at him. He continued, "The prince's beloved squire, like a little brother to him. . . Won't it hurt him when he finds out how you plotted to kill him? Your disguise, of course was intended to be revealed to him soon, so you could seduce him and corrupt or kill him when given the opportunity."

Roger bent down, and whispered in her ear, "That will kill him far beyond whatever I could ever do to him."

Still panting from the efforts of the healing process that was barely stemming the flow of blood, Alanna shuddered as the duke's warm breath rippled through her hair. She tried concentrating on her sword, lying in front of her, while he whispered to her again. "Your head will surely look fine on Traitor's Hill next to that thief friend of yours. I heard you talking to him," he said. "The one that they call the 'King of Thieves'?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "What a fine catch he will be."

Alanna gasped, and pried her fingers from the grisly wound. She grabbed Lightning and held it to Roger's throat. He laughed and took a step backwards, raising his sword high over his head. She staggered as she stood up, and caught a glimpse of Alex standing nearby, watching.

"Alex," she yelled feebly. "Alex, please help me!"

Alex remained silent, continuing to stare at the scene with his dark eyes.

Alanna weakly lifted her sword out in front of her as Roger thrust his own down at her head.


	11. Deus Ex Machina

Alanna heard a shrill whistle from the blade as it sliced through the air, bearing down on her. Hands shaking, she held her own sword in front of her in a last bid at defending herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable blow that would surely end her life.

The blow never came. Confused, Alanna opened her eyes.

Roger stood over her, apparently frozen in position. His blade was mere inches away from her neck. She tried to roll out of the way, but found that she also was unable to move, save for her face and mouth. As she watched, a pale green light washed over the practice courts. She stared in bewilderment as a figure appeared beside Roger and reached for his sword. Delicate fingers removed the blade from Roger's unmoving ones. It held the sword high in the air, examining it.

 _A fine blade_ , the figure said. The voice sent chills down Alanna's spine. She recognized that voice.

"Goddess?" she croaked. As the figure gave her a small bob of the head in acknowledgment and tossed the sword to the ground, Alanna watched the foggy features of the figure become clearer. Dark hair cascaded down the goddess's back, and her beautiful almond eyes were a vibrant shade of green. But while her face became clearer, the shape of her body became less so. Alanna tried to follow the movement of her hands and body, but the swaying and swirling only succeeded in giving her a headache. She stopped trying, and instead concentrated on the face.

 _You recognized me much faster this time_ , the Goddess murmured.

Alanna ignored her as she choked back tears, then said, "I thought you told me I had three months."

The goddess gave her a sad smile. _Not even the gods know exactly how life will unfold. I foresaw the anger and the time. It would have happened the way I had told you, had not this man discovered your secret so soon._

She stopped, and looked into Alanna's eyes. _I deceived you, my child. I assure you, it was not intentional._ She walked—glided—over to Alanna, and grasped her face with her hands. She tilted it up a bit and brushed away a hot tear that was coursing down Alanna's face. Alanna looked away, embarrassed and ashamed that she had let her emotions take hold of her.

 _Please, don't cry. Let me make things right._

Alanna wanted to yell at her, but restrained herself from doing so. "This is _my_ life, and I don't appreciate the gods interfering with it! It's my own cursed fault for falling for that stupid trick, and I deserve my fate!"

If she were anyone but a goddess, Alanna would have said that she looked annoyed. _Don't be foolish,_ she said. _Even_ you _aren't too proud to accept the help of the gods when your life is at stake. Your fate is tied up with the fate of others. If you die now, it will throw off the balance of this kingdom._

Alanna found that she was regaining more movement of her face. She raised her eyebrows. "How?" she asked.

 _It is not your destiny to die here, today, now,_ the Goddess said. _It is your destiny to rid the kingdom of this threat._ She gestured to the motionless Roger.

Alanna glared at her. "Then why don't you do it? You're standing right there and his sword is only a few inches away!"

 _It wouldn't be prudent of me to eliminate him, because by doing so I would be changing your fate. My first meeting with you threw many of these actions into motion, and I am trying to right the wrong I have done you by telling you too much. The gods do not like to interfere with the lives of mortals._

"Then what do you call this?" Alanna spat.

 _Helping,_ she said simply.

Alanna sighed. "I suppose it's either help or death then."

 _No, you have no choice in this matter. I need you alive._ She rubbed Alanna's side with her hands, and Alana felt the wound heal and the blood dry up. She realized she could now move her arms when she put her own hands on her side and found a long scar where the wound had been, still red and angry-looking.

The Goddess's body then seemed to melt away, and as she melted, Alanna felt the ability to move return to all parts of her body. As it returned to her, she realized with horror that it would return to Roger as well.

With newfound strength, she stood up and thrust her blade towards Roger, watching as his sapphire eyes grow wide in fright. He tried to dodge out of the way and into the general direction of his sword, but Alanna was quicker. Her blade bit into his side, the slash far wider and deeper than the one that he had inflicted upon Alanna. Roger slumped to the ground and lay there, clutching his side.

"Alex," he rasped.

Alex was already there, his sword raised high. Alanna took a step back and raised her sword defensively. Alex looked at her, then dropped to the ground and knelt over Roger's body and grasped his wrist, feeling for a pulse. He sighed and muttered, "You'll live." Roger's eyelids fluttered. "Hang in there, Roger," Alex murmured.

He stood up and began to yell, "Someone, anyone! Help! We need a healer!"

Alanna stared at the scene. Roger, lying on the ground. The King's nephew. Who she had just slashed across the side, in something that was much more than a mock duel.

She inhaled sharply and took a step forward. "I can h—"

"Stay back or I'll kill you." He glared at her, brandishing his sword. "Someone, _help_!"

Roger groaned and stirred. Alex laid a hand across him and said, "Don't try to move. You'll only make it worse."

Through clenched teeth, Roger muttered Alex's name. Alex bent down and Roger whispered in his ear. Alanna couldn't make out what he was saying until—"I'll be fine. Go." Alex straightened and walked over to Alanna. She raised her sword and backed up.

"You think I'm going to hurt you when all these people will be out here soon?" Alex asked.

"Yes," Alanna said.

Alanna felt her sword fly out of her hands and come to a clatter at Roger's side.

"Thanks, Roger," Alex said.

Alanna tried to run back to her sword, but Alex stopped her with his sword. He placed it to her collar bone and allowed his features to morph into a leonine grin.

"Turn around," he said, "and walk."


	12. A Bodice Ripper, This One

She tried to move, she tried to breathe, she tried to blink, but all she could do was stare at the sword that was pressed against her chest.

Her chest. Not again.

"Did you hear what I said?" Alex demanded, pressing the blade harder. "Turn around and walk!"

Alanna eyed her sword that lay beside Roger, calculating the possibilities. "Don't even think about it," Alex sneered, baring his teeth. He raised the blade up to her neck. "I could end this now," he said, eyeing her neck hungrily. "I could end this now, and no one would think the worse of me for killing a traitor like you."

He glanced back at Roger. "But that's not the plan. If it were up to me…" he grinned.

"More people know about me than you might think!" Alanna glared at him. "They'll know that I would never do this to keep my secret!"

"But what will those who don't know your secret think?" Alex said smugly. "Do you really think your friends will like the fact that you're nothing but a lying little slut?"

"They'll understand why I had to do this," Alanna said, gritting her teeth.

"Doesn't matter. I doubt the court will appreciate that they have some delusional freak of nature in their midst, fighting alongside their men," Alex said. "But I might as well do this right." He squinted, staring past her. "There are too many witnesses now anyway."

Alanna turned to see what he was looking at. Though strangely absent during Alanna's calls for help, quite a few people apparently had heard Alex's shouting. Some sort of silencing spell, Alanna realized glumly. Roger had been ready for her. If only she had been ready for him.

A group of pages stumbled out the large doors, tripping over each other to see what the commotion was. Alanna felt a lump form in the back of her throat as she recognized a few faces of the small crowd that was pushing through the doors of the castle: Gary and Raoul were clearly visible.

"Someone, we need a healer! Quick, Duke Roger is injured!" Alex called to the group. He prodded Alanna again with the sword, pushing through her tunic and biting her skin with the pointed tip. She was barely aware that she had started moving, trudging up to the castle with Alex behind her. They approached the castle entrance together. A few more people trickled out the doors, all staring at the scene.

"Don't just stand there!" Alex snapped. "Someone help!"

A few servants ran back into the hall, emerging in moments with bandages and gauze. "This will halt the blood for the moment while someone fetches a proper healer," a male servant said breathlessly as he and a few others rushed over to where Roger lay. Alanna glanced back. Roger's face was visible to her, but he looked like a ghost of his former self. He was losing a lot of blood.

She was forced to pull her eyes away from the scene as Alex roared, "This squire is a liar and traitor to the crown!"

A few people stared, puzzled.

"Alex, come off," Raoul said, stepping forward. "Put the sword down and leave Alan alone. I'm sure whatever happened here was an accident."

Alex bared his teeth. "I saw 'Alan' try to kill Roger with my own eyes. There was no accident, I can assure you."

Raoul looked back at Roger, wary. "Are you trying to tell me Alan, of all people, would try to kill a Duke, _with_ a witness present? Be serious, now. Stop poking Alan with your sword and let's go into the castle."

Gary stepped forward. "On what grounds would you accuse Alan of trying to hurt the Duke, anyway? Alan has done nothing but help the royal family," he said, his eyes meeting Alex's dark gaze. He glanced at Alanna's expression, where obvious terror was present. She knew what was coming next.

"Alan has a secret that he didn't want Roger revealing."

She gritted her teeth.

"Our dear friend 'Alan' happens to be female."

A few people gasped. Raoul looked at Alanna's face rather oddly. Her face convulsed as she tried to keep the guilt from revealing itself in her features. "Alan? _Our_ Alan? This is no time for a joke, Alex, and this is a particularly unfunny one," Raoul said.

"Do you think I'm a liar?" Alex snarled. He looked at Gary and Raoul's dubious expressions and his brow furrowed. "Let's see then, shall we?" He brought the sword up to her neck and thrust down, ripping her tunic cleanly apart. She held it to herself, but Alex yanked her arms away with his free hand and pulled the ruined garment down. Alanna glumly watched it flutter to the ground.

Everyone stared at Alanna's chest, bound and bandaged, but with definite swellings visible underneath. She crossed her arms over her chest and hung her head in embarrassment.

"I think that's all the clothing that needs to be ruined today," Alex sneered as he lowered his sword. Gary and Raoul stared in disbelief.

"Excuse, move, please, I'm a healer," a voice rang out from the back of the crowd as it parted to make way for the newcomer. "Where is—oh!" Duke Baird gasped, staring at Alanna in shock. "What is the meaning behind this?" he demanded, suddenly growing pale.

"We'll explain later, your Grace; please, Duke Roger is hurt badly," Alex said smoothly.

Duke Baird cast a worried look at Alanna and hurried away from the crowd toward where Roger lay. The servants attempting to stem the flow of blood quickly backed away from the healer as he approached and began to perform the spells and incantations that would save the man's life.

"Come on, we had better get this _woman_ into the castle," Alex announced. "His Majesty needs to hear about this immediately." He sheathed his sword and pulled open the castle doors. "Get in there," he hissed at Alanna. She walked slowly toward him, crossing her arms carefully over her chest. She felt someone nudge her arm and looked at the person. A bare-chested Raoul wordlessly handed her his tunic. She attempted to smile at him but found her facial muscles would not allow it. Instead, she whispered a thank you as she pulled it over her head, letting the too-large tunic fall past her knees.

Alex glared, but said nothing. Alanna followed him into the castle, keeping her head down.

She swallowed the lump that had welled up in her throat.

 _Oh gods, why is this happening?_


	13. The Unluckiest Part of the Story

It was all a blur.

The stares, the whispers. Everyone they passed already knew her secret. She could feel the wide eyes of the servants surveying her body, making her cheeks burn as a deep blush appeared across her face. They all seemed to be searching for some clue, some hint that would betray her gender.

Alex said nothing.

She noticed wearily that a small group followed behind them, mostly a few palace guards who seemed taken aback as to what to do. They whispered quietly amongst themselves as they followed Alanna and Alex down to the belly of the castle, to the dungeon Alanna had seldom seen.

A heavy padlocked door greeted them, and Alex gestured to the guards. A burly man emerged with a set of wrought-iron keys and fumbled with them briefly before opening the door. He held it open as Alanna followed Alex inside, past a few dingy cells. Alanna couldn't be sure how many prisoners were in there ( the cells all featured thick wooden doors with only a small barred window to see inside), but she saw the faces of a few men leering at her as they walked past.

"Hey! Hey!" she heard one yell. "What's that squire doing in here?"

Alex ignored him and led Alanna down to the end of the row of cells, where a guard sat perched upon a stool. He watched their approach with wary eyes, and stood as they got nearer. Alex leaned closer and said something quietly to them. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at Alanna. " _What_ happened?" he asked.

"You'll find out the details soon enough," Alex hissed. "A cell now, if you please."

The guard gave him a cold stare as he unlocked the one nearest to him. He held it open as Alanna peered into the small, cramped space.

"Get in," Alex said, pointing to the cell. Alanna ignored him as she continued to examine the cell until Alex pushed her, making her stumble and trip. She glared up at him. "Get in," he repeated. She brushed her knee off and walked into the cell, and he shut the door behind him. She heard the key turn in the lock, and crept under the door's small window as she listened to Alex speak with the guard.

"Don't let anyone in who doesn't have official business," he said. "None of the squire's friends, absolutely no one. This squire isn't your run of the mill convict."

"What exactly is going on?" the guard asked.

"That's none of your business," Alex snapped. "But I'm sure you'll find out all the information you could ever want when this goes to trial."

"And when can we expect that?" he asked.

"I don't know," Alex said. "Soon, I'm sure. This is going to be a high priority. For Mithros's sake, sh—the damn squire tried to assassinate a duke."

Alanna heard footsteps, which grew fainter and fainter as Alex left. Now all she could hear was the movement of the guard, who settled back into the stool he had been seated on. She settled too, leaning up against the hard wood of the door as she stretched her legs across the cold stone floor. She squinted, trying to let her eyes adjust to the dark of the cell. She could dimly make out a hole in the floor near the wall—the sure culprit of the nauseating smell that now permeated her nostrils.

It was cold in here, with no sunlight to lend her a little warmth. She sighed, and shivered.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Lass! Lass!" An urgent whisper startled her out of her dreamless sleep.

Groggily, Alanna opened her eyes. There was no change in what she could see, only empty darkness filled her cell. She heard a small clank as a key turned in the lock of her cell door. She scrambled to her feet as someone came in, holding a candle that illuminated his strong nose.

"George!" she whispered. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

George nearly rolled his eyes. "You don't think the King of Thieves has some plants in the palace dungeons in place for emergency situations?"

"Oh," Alanna said. "Did anyone see you come in?" she asked, careful to keep her voice down.

"Not a soul," George said. "But we don't have long. The next shift of the watch isn't peppered with rogues, so we need to hurry."

"Hurry where?" Alanna asked. "Are you helping me escape?"

George shook his head. "No, lass. Not yet, at any rate."

Alanna sighed. "So what's going to happen, then?"

George winced. "You'll go to trial tomorrow. This doesn't look good," he said grimly. "The king himself will be presidin' over your trial. Evidently charges of high treason go beyond the power of the royal magistrate."

Alanna grimaced. "High treason? That's the official charge, then?" she asked.

He nodded. "You're bein' accused of many things, among them high treason for the attempted assassination of the Duke. If Roger has his way, though, you'll be charged for conspiracy to kill the whole royal family as well."

Alanna gasped. "No!" she said. "He can't prove anything like that! Nothing of the sort ever happened. I didn't even try to kill him either, I was defending myself!"

George looked at her sadly. "Don't you think I know that, lass? But the Duke is a powerful man. For the most part, it'll be his word against yours."

"Alex's word too," Alanna muttered.

George sighed. "Not to mention the Duke is a powerful sorcerer. He's probably busy fabricatin' evidence of your plans to slaughter the royal family right now."

"But I have no _motive_ ," Alanna insisted. "Why in Mithros' name would I try to hurt Jon and his family? He's my knightmaster, and my friend!"

"I don't know what he'll say, lass. There's a million reasons he could invent. Why, for all we know, your connections to the Rogue might be the first he uses to prove your guilt. It could be me on trial next, for collaboratin' with you in some attempt to overthrow the Conté line."

"Then what are we _doing_ here?" Alanna snapped. "If it's a hopeless case, why don't we just leave now?"

George looked at her. "D'you really want to hurt your Prince, lass?" he asked. "You don't think he wants the chance to hear you explain yourself?"

Alanna looked down.

"Besides," George said, "Runnin' away now isn't a good idea. It's not a sure thing that you'll be convicted. We'll be needin' someone to vouch for you."

"Like you?" Alanna asked bitterly.

George looked at her with kind eyes and grabbed one of her callused, small hands with his own. "I would give my life to protect you," he said. "But you know as well as I do that the King of Thieves can't step into a court room and assert that he knew your sex all along and expect to walk out of there a free man."

"But can George Cooper?" Alanna asked. "A friend from the lower city?"

"The Provost knows the name George Cooper, lass. We need to keep the Rogue out of this in case the worst happens. We need the Rogue in here to get you out if they..." he faltered.

"If they sentence me?" Alanna asked glumly.

George nodded his head briefly. "If it makes you feel better, lass, that room will be flooded with my men. I'll be there too—it's lucky the Provost doesn't know my face. Ideally, you won't see me either, though. I'll have to be disguised. I don't want to risk the possibility of anyone who shouldn't bein' able to recognize me.

"I've spoken with Duke Baird," he continued. "It wasn't easy work, gettin' him alone, and I managed to scare him half to death in the process." He gave her a small smile. "He's a decent sort. Of course he'd heard about all of the commotion—he told me he was already plannin' on tellin' their majesties that he was well aware of your sex and knew you had no wishes of harm towards him for discoverin' your secret."

"So has he spoken with them already?" she asked.

George shook his head again. "He told me that he had tried to speak with the king regardin' you, but was told that the king would prefer him to save his story for court. He'll be there tomorrow."

"So what's going to happen if this doesn't work?" she asked. "You and the Rogue will break me out?"

George dropped her hand and put a finger to her lips. "Not so loud, lass—I don't want to go into details. Rest be assured, I will not see them take you to Traitor's Hill."

He set the candles in its holder on the floor for a moment and straightened, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Instead of fighting him like she'd normally do, she settled into his arms. "I'm scared, George," she whispered hoarsely, fighting back the urge to cry.

"I know lass," he said into her tangled mess of red hair. He held her close as she buried her face into his chest. "But as long as I live, I will do my best to protect you." He stepped back, picking the candle up. "This will work out, one way or another," he told her, brushing a curl back from her eyes. "You're a fighter, and you always will be. You will fight until your prince is safe and your name is cleared. And I will be right beside you until that time."

Without another word, George was gone, the door was locked, and Alanna was alone once again.


	14. Nighttime Visitations

A cloaked man stumbled into the Dancing Dove as the small clock that Solom kept above his bar cooed like a dove. Once, twice—the hour was two after midnight, and Solom was ready to go to bed for the night. He could smell the alcohol on the man's breath even before he sat down at the bar in front of him. He winced slightly. Getting a drunk out of the bar this late would be an irritating task, one that might even require him to rouse a few rogues from their beauty sleep.

He sighed. "What can I do for ye? This old man needs t' go abed soon."

"Solom," the man croaked. "Where's George?"

Solom peered into the man's face, trying to see past the shadow that the cloak cast. "Johnny?" he asked in disbelief. "What have ye gotten yerself into at this hour?"

"Please, Solom," he said. "I need George."

Solom shook his head. "His Majesty is out right now," he told the man. "But he shant be gone much longer."

"Thass okay then," the man slurred. "I'll wait right here."

Solom shrugged. "Suit yerself, lad, but I'll be goin' t' bed. Mind ye keep yerself away from the drink for the rest of the night—ye've had quite enough."

He didn't answer.

Solom didn't usually let drunks sleep in the bar, George knew, so he couldn't ignore the slumped figure that was resting its cloaked head on the countertop. George approached the man, gingerly tapping him on the shoulder with one hand, while the other fingered the dagger at his belt. The man moaned softly, stirring.

"Wake up," George said, now shaking him gently.

"George," the man moaned, and began to sit up.

"Yes?" George asked, helping the man to his feet. He drew a quick breath as he recognized the man, whispering, "Jonathan?"

Jonathan mumbled incoherently, rubbing his eyes. "George… how could he?"

George cursed softly. "C'mon, come up to my room," he said. "It's safer."

He led him up to his room, and helped Jonathan into a chair.

It took a few minutes and a glass of water for Jonathan to fully awaken, but when he did, George could see that the prince was the drunkest he had ever seen him.

George sighed. He turned to the desk behind him and opened a drawer, pulling out a small amulet.

"This was an expensive gift, so I'd be grateful if you'd make it up to me, since it's only got a few uses out of it before I have to get it spelled again," George said. He pressed the stone against Jonathan's forehead for a moment. Jonathan gasped and shuddered.

"Never used it for a drunk before," George said, smiling slightly, "but I suppose there's a first time for everythin'. It's used to clear a man's head and enhance his thinkin' ability. Did it work?"

Jon nodded. "I'm… I'm sorry George. I don't know what I was thinking."

George leaned back on his desk. "I know what you were thinkin'," he said. "I had a few of the same thoughts when I found out our young friend's secret only a few years back."

"George, how could he?" Jon cried. "How could he keep something like this from me? Why didn't he trust me?"

"Say 'she,' Jon, or you'll never get used to it. Alanna didn't like lyin' to you. She was plannin' on tellin' you soon," George said, crossing his broad arms. "No one at the palace knew her secret until a few weeks ago, and me and my mother were only told out of necessity."

"Who at the palace knew?" Jon asked, looking up. "Who did she trust more than me?"

George smiled wanly. "No one, Jon," he said. "Duke Baird suspected as much after you went to him about an injury of hers, and was pressurin' her to tell her secret soon." George shook his head. "Jon, this is a conversation you should be havin' with Alanna herself."

Jon pretended not to hear him. "And the treason! Mithros!" he said, holding his head in his hands as he stared at the floor. "Why on earth would Roger accuse him… her… of that? How did Alanna hurt him so bad? She didn't mean to, did she?"

George stared at him pointedly. "Why would a man so close to the throne be tryin' to eliminate those closest to the royal family?"

Jon looked up. "George, he's my cousin. Roger _is_ a part of the royal family."

George shook his head and sighed. "Jonathan, what would a young rogue who is tryin' to become King of the Rogues do to get that position?"

"He'd challenge you. To your face," Jon said, holding George's gaze.

"Or he'd gather up support from other rogues and get my supporters away from me, try to catch me alone."

Jon looked at him. "No, George." He shook his head. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like, Jon?"

Jonathan looked away. "I don't know. There's been a misunderstanding."

George held out a hand to Jon and pulled him to his feet.

"Don't let yourself be caught alone, Jonathan."

* * *

With George's assistance, Jonathan found himself safely back at the palace. He found his own way to the dungeons, buying the silence of the late night guard with a gold noble. The guard bowed to him sleepily and led him to Alanna's cell, unlocking it as he whispered for the prince to be quiet. Jon nodded and stepped into the cell.

"Wake up, Alanna," Jon said quietly, squinting at the figure that leaned against the wall.

"I'm already awake," Alanna whispered.

"Oh," Jon said. He scratched his head and leaned out of the cell. "Do you have a spare candle?" he asked the guard. The guard, already falling asleep, jolted back awake and jabbed a hand toward a bucket near the wall. "Thanks," Jon said, and grabbed a candle from it. He called fire to the candle and stepped back into Alanna's cell.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," Alanna said.

Jon leaned up against the wall and slid down so that he was sitting next to her.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked. "After all these years, you didn't trust me?"

"Jon, I couldn't!" Alanna said. "I didn't want to tell anyone—I only told George because I had… I had a problem that I needed help with and I couldn't go to anyone in the palace about it."

"But I'm your knightmaster! Your friend! You thought I would turn my back on you?" His voice cracked.

Alanna sighed. "Jon, no. Please, it had nothing to do with you. I didn't want to put my secret on you too. What if you slipped up and said something on accident?"

"I wouldn't have," Jonathan said. "Not for something so important."

"Things happen," Alanna said. "Besides, I was going to tell you soon. Duke Baird found out and he was going to make me tell you, and everyone else, too."

"I don't like how telling me would have been out of force, and I don't like that I had to find out this way," Jon said.

"Please, Jon," Alanna said, turning to look at his face. "Jon, I just wanted to earn my shield. I didn't want to complicate things."

Jon was staring at the candle, not looking at her.

"So did you try to kill my cousin?" he asked.

"Mithros, no!" Alanna exclaimed. "He challenged me to a practice duel, Jon. He… there was an accident. It was in defense that I stabbed him. He cut me first, only…" she stopped.

"What?" Jon asked.

"You won't believe me," she said.

"Try me."

"He hurt me bad, Jon. It was a deep cut."

"You don't seem hurt," Jon said.

"The Goddess intervened," Alanna told him. "She's come to me before, and she came to me in the middle of the duel and healed me. She said that my death would throw off the kingdom's balance, and she made my wound go away." Alanna lifted her tunic—Raoul's tunic—up, revealing a long, raised scar from where Roger had slashed her with his sword. "See, there's a scar right here," she said.

Jon turned to her and examined her side by the light of the candle.

"He told me he was going to kill me," she said quietly. "He told me he was after the throne."

Jon sighed. "George said as much," he told her, now looking back at the candle clasped in his hands. Alanna could see how tight he gripped it, his knuckles white.

"There must be a misunderstanding," Jon said. "Roger wouldn't try to kill me. He's happy with his life—he likes being a sorcerer and a duke."

"Then why am I locked in this cell, Jonathan?" Alanna asked through clenched teeth.

Jon looked at her. "Maybe he was just angry that you're a girl?" he asked. "How did he find out, anyway?"

"I don't _know_ ," Alanna said angrily. "I didn't tell him!"

"Sorry," Jon said, looking away. He stood up.

"Going now?" Alanna asked.

Jon nodded. His lip trembled, and for a moment Alanna thought she saw the glisten of a tear in his eye. "Alan—Alanna, I mean… I believe you. I believe that you didn't mean to hurt Roger, and I believe that you are here just to earn your shield. I'll say as much at your trial tomorrow. But about Roger—you're wrong. He loves me, in his way. He'd never try to hurt me. He probably thought he was protecting me from you. I'll talk tomorrow and say what needs to be said. I'm sure we can clear this up."

Alanna looked at him in disbelief. "Jonathan, he told me he wanted to kill you!"

"Don't," Jonathan said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

"This was not supposed to happen."

"I know, Alex."

"She was supposed to die."

"Yes."

"You were supposed to kill her in self defense. You were supposed to tell her you knew her secret, and we would tell them that she had attempted to kill you."

"Do not think I have not planned for this."

"Your plans may go wrong again, Roger! Your magic kept people from coming to the practice courts during the duel—what if it had kept them away when you were injured and needed help? Just let me finish her off!"

"Alex, please be patient. Her death will come shortly, and you will be bothered no more by her existence."

"But what if she is not convicted?"

"She will still die, Alex, mark my words."

Roger fiddled with something small in his hands, a round crystal. The best gem cutters in Tortall must have been responsible for its creation; it resembled a diamond. The many-faceted surface caught the morning light that trickled from the dusty window of Roger's room, reflecting a small rainbow on the stone walls.

Roger smiled. "It has already been taken care of."


	15. Trial and Error

Rough hands shook her awake. "Wake up. Your trial is starting soon."

"Trial?" Alanna yelped. "Already?"

"High treason is not a matter to drag out," the guard told her as he yanked her forearm, pulling Alanna to her feet. "Hold out your hands."

She obeyed, frowning. He fastened leather straps joined by a chain around her wrists.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked.

"Just be glad those aren't goin' on your feet, too," the guard told her.

* * *

Now, sitting in the front of the room and facing the raised platform where the king would oversee the trial, Alanna had a good grasp of the scandal her secret (and Roger's lies) had caused. The courtroom was brimming with people, everyone from the young ladies' maids to Corus's bakers. She smiled faintly when she spotted a few familiar rogues in back, a sign of George's promise that he had an eye on things.

She scanned the courtroom for more faces that she recognized and swallowed a lump in her throat as her eyes settled upon the cause of this mess. Duke Roger, seated on the opposite side of the courtroom, did not look at her. He did as she did, glancing around the courtroom to assess who was present and who was not. Alex sat next to him, staring intently at the front of the room.

Baird of Queenscove took his seat toward the front of the room, close enough to Alanna that she could see the beads of sweat that formed on his brow. His green eyes kept flickering over to where Roger was seated. Alanna saw his gaze finally leave Roger and settle on her. She caught his eye, a questioning look upon her face. He smiled weakly and gave her a reassuring nod.

 _Maybe I do have a chance_ , she thought _. The word of one duke against the word of another._

As if he sensed her thoughts, Roger stiffened and finally looked her way. His normally handsome face contorted in a sneer, but Alanna defiantly held his gaze. Before anyone could spot their silent exchange, a hush fell over the crowd as Tortall's reigning monarch entered the courtroom.

Roald looked weary as he swept to the front of the room, nodding to a few people as he passed the bowing court. Alanna heard a few whispers noting the absence of Lianne, some mentioning that she was feeling ill again. Jonathan followed closely behind his father, a look of stone on his face. The emotion that Alanna had seen on his face yesterday when he came to visit her had been replaced by a passionless mask. Alanna wished desperately to know what he was thinking now, when her life was about to come under scrutiny and her fate decided.

Roald took his place as head of the court, seated atop a dais centered in the front of the room. Jonathan took a seat next to Alanna, as her knightmaster. _Or former knightmaster?_ she wondered. He refused to look at her, instead staring straight ahead at his father.

Roald stared at Alanna for a moment, looking her over. He glanced at a thick piece of parchment that lay before him, scanning and memorizing its contents. Then he stood, announcing, "The trial for Alanna of Trebond will now begin. The accusations that stand against her are high treason, for the attempted assassination of a Duke and heir to the throne, and conspiracy to commit high treason. The severity of these crimes dictate that, as reigning monarch of Tortall, I will oversee the trial and decide the fate of the accused and what, if any, punishment will be bestowed upon her. If she is found innocent of these allegations, a new trial will be held in three days' time for the additional and lesser crime of male impersonation for personal gain.

"After much discussion, I have also come to the conclusion that it would be imprudent to use mages to determine the accuracy of the testimony presented, considering that both the Trebond and many of the witnesses are skilled mages themselves.

"The trial will begin with the accuser presenting their testimony of the accounts that led to the arrest of the accused and any additional evidence or details relating to the crimes that the accused is being charged with. Following the testimony of the accuser and anyone else who wishes to present evidence against the accused, the defense for the accused will begin. Those wishing to speak in defense of Alanna of Trebond for any of the aforementioned crimes will be given the opportunity to do so, and the trial will conclude with the testimony of Alanna of Trebond herself."

Roald nodded to Roger. "You may begin."

Roger limped slowly to the front of the room and took a seat in the large chair behind a table that was diagonal from where Alanna sat. From there, both the court and the king could hear Roger's testimony.

He drew a long, deep breath and began.

Roger's testimony wasn't anything that Alanna wasn't expecting. As expected, he claimed that he had stumbled upon Alanna's secret and, also as expected, said he had engaged her in a friendly practice battle and had (quite accidentally) let it slip that he had found out her secret. And then she had subsequently not-so-accidentally tried to kill him for it.

"Luckily," he had said, "she didn't know that my former squire was also aware of her… status."

She had felt a surge of anger, though, when he had described how he had discovered that she was a girl—he had apparently bugged her room when he began to become suspicious that she may have been involved in some sort of "treasonous plot." Obviously she had not been involved in any such thing, but she wondered why he had felt it necessary to spy on her. She had not been hiding any other major secrets that could help Roger.

Her lack of secrets did not seem to bother Roger, however, as he invented quite a number of secrets that she certainly did not keep. Supposed ties to the Tusaine court were mentioned as a possible motive for her crimes, along with a number of other countries and groups that may have conspired with her to carry out the assassination of various members of the royal family.

He had punctuated quite a few of his sentences with some colorful phrases such as "filthy slut," "common whore," "Trebond's temptress," and "blight of the Goddess." Alanna was expecting this and barely blinked as he cast insult after insult upon her. What did bother her, though, were the quiet murmurs of agreement that passed through the courtroom.

And then he was done, and Alex was taking his place, settling into the same chair.

Alex was different. Alex was cooler. He was more collected. He didn't use petty insults and his cheeks did not burn with the fire of indignation as Roger's had. Instead, he almost whispered his testimony to the courtroom, who hung onto his every word.

And he never stopped staring at her. His dark eyes were trained on her and never left her face as he spoke, softly detailing how the practice duel between Roger and Alanna turned into something much more serious.

"She was filled with a fire," he said. "And—I loathe to say it—I was grateful that I was not the one opposite her. She had become mad with the fury at having her secret pulled from beneath her, and she was not going to stop until Roger was dead.

"Of course," he said, "she had overlooked the fact that I would and certainly did intervene. I am only ashamed to admit that I did not stop her before she had maimed my former knightmaster, but I did not believe that she would be able to cause him so much harm. I suppose she had a stroke of luck and took advantage of him when his guard was down."

Alex continued on for a little bit, repeating the same story that Roger had told. The king thanked him and he stood, held Alanna's gaze for a moment, and returned to sit next to Roger.

"Any other testimony against Alanna of Trebond?" the king asked, scanning the court. Greeted by silence, he looked at Baird. "It appears that Baird of Queenscove intends to speak in the defense of Trebond." He nodded at Baird, who rose slowly and strode to the front of the court. He took the seat that Alex had previously occupied and faced the court.

Baird took a deep breath as he looked around the packed room, his eyes settling upon Alanna's face. "I knew—" he faltered for a moment, then began again, "I—" he stopped, mid breath, and his body tensed up. For a moment he looked as if he was struggling to retain his thoughts, until his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body began to convulse. Twitching and shaking violently, the duke fell out of his chair, slamming his head against the table before him as he fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Someone screamed. Roald leapt to his feet, croaking, "Healer! We need a healer."

"But his Grace is the best healer we've got!" said an ashen faced guard who stood nearby, panicked.

"Find someone else! Now!" Roald commanded, and the guard hurried away. A woman from the back pushed forward, saying, "I have some healing magic, let me take a look at him."

It was Eleni. Alanna gaped as George's mother rushed to where the duke lay on the ground, his body still in the grips of a full-blown seizure. She grabbed his head with both of her hands. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed. His body was still. Alanna watched as the fire of Eleni's Gift enveloped him, and she held his head on her lap.

After a moment, Eleni sighed. "He's going to be unconscious for a while," she announced. "His seizure is over now, but that head injury..." she shook her own head. "He's lucky he doesn't have any bleeding in the brain. I believe he will be fine when he wakes up, but I won't know how long that will be."

A man dressed in the garb of a palace healer pushed through the crowd, breathing heavily. Panting, he knelt beside Eleni. "May I, please?" he asked. Eleni nodded. She stood up and returned to the crowd, blending back in seamlessly.

He wrapped gauze around Baird's head gently as a few burly guards approached them, carrying a stretcher. They lifted Baird onto the stretcher gently. There was a silence as they quickly left the courtroom, though whispers began the second the door was closed behind them.

Roald cleared his throat uneasily. "Well, then… I have been given no other names of those wishing to speak in favor of Alanna of Trebond. Is there anyone else who wishes to speak in her defense?"

"Yes, actually," a voice called, "I would like to testify in her defense."

She knew that voice. Alanna turned to see Myles standing in the aisle behind her, looking directly at the king.

The king nodded. "You have my permission then, Sir Myles of Olau."

Myles walked to the front of the room and sat. The king said, "You may begin your testimony, Sir Myles."

Myles looked at Alanna briefly, gracing her with a small smile before opening his mouth. "Doubtless many of you know me as the court drunk." The courtroom, solemn with Duke Baird's sudden collapse, relaxed with a few audible chuckles. "But Alan—Alanna—knew me as more than that. We have become friends since he—she—began her training at the palace as a page."

"I had no reason to think Alan was any different from the other pages when he arrived. Small, yes, and feisty—but not completely unusual. However, when the prince fell ill from the Sweating Sickness, I saw something in Alan that I had not initially noticed.

"For one thing, I realized that Alan had a very powerful Gift. No healer had been able to cure the Sweating Sickness as effectively as Alan had done, and no healer had been able to bring back someone so visibly close to death.

"However, I learned something else over the course of that night. I learned that Alan was hiding something—his true gender. During the healing process, Alan, caught up in his intense concentration with the task on hand, revealed himself to be female.

"Things began making sense. I had long suspected Alan of hiding something, and this revelation made me understand what this was. I observed Alan's interaction with the pages and noted little things about him that confirmed my suspicions. His privacy, his unwillingness to swim with his friends, and—yes—even his insecurity over his stature led me to believe that I had made the correct conclusion.

"But never, in the many years that I have known Alan, has he given any indication that he had any desire to hurt the royal family. If he had, surely he would have let Prince Jonathan die that night. I would not have thought ill of Alan had Jonathan died. Indeed, many thought that he would die that night—his family and the healers who tended to him prior to my arrival included. It would seem illogical that a young, untrained boy would be able to cure the heir to the realm of such a mysterious disease, but cure him he did, and Jonathan lives to this day."

Roger stood up. "This is preposterous," he said. "Sir Myles has admitted to his own regular intoxication—how are we to know that the story is nothing more than the fabrications of a drunkard?"

Myles smiled softly. "I assure you, drunkard though I may be during times of merriment, I am not currently intoxicated, nor was I during the entire course of friendship with Alan."

Roger's eyes glittered, their blue darkening to a near black in the dim light of the court. "I myself would be curious to know how _Alanna_ managed to cure the Prince of the Sweating Sickness, where so many more experienced healers failed before her. Surely she could not have known how to seek its cure without prior knowledge of how it worked."

"So you suggest, Roger, that the Sweating Sickness was indeed the creation of man, sent purposefully to cause death and sickness to Corus?" Myles asked, voice steely. "I myself had always found it dreadfully ironic that the Prince fell ill only after all of the city's healers had been drained of their power healing others."

"But this makes sense!" Roger exclaimed. "She must have been given knowledge of how to cure it so that she would be the only one capable of saving the Prince—an obvious trick to gain the royal family's respect and trust for saving their son!"

"Alanna works with an outside source then, Roger?" Myles asked quietly. "Can you name who exactly Alanna was employed by? You seem to have a vast amount of ideas about many different possible ties, but fail to conclusively prove which one it is that is plotting against the royal family using Alanna as a weapon."

Roger flushed. "The squire clearly would need help in order to achieve his obvious goals."

"Which are?" Myles asked.

"You heard the official charges, Myles," Roger snarled. "High treason, for his attempted murder of a Duke, and another charge of high treason, for plotting against the royal family."

"But what would Alan have to gain from the fall of the Contés, Roger?" Myles asked calmly. "She was only ten years old when she became a squire, and is most assuredly a Tortallan noble by birth, with no viable claim to the throne. Are you suggesting that a ten-year-old came to the palace disguised as a boy for the sheer purpose of assassinating the royal family?"

"She could have been groomed for this!" Roger said. "I heard that the late Lord Alan of Trebond, her father, was a hermit of a fellow who kept to himself and did not often have visitors from the palace. Who knows who may have visited him and recruited his children to follow them, or recruited him to instruct his daughter to train as a page?"

"Your theories are flawed, Roger," Myles said. "If Alanna has been groomed for this task since she was young, then why should we punish her? Should we not instead seek those who brainwashed her into attempting to commit treason?"

"My theories are just that, Myles," Roger said. "They are theories, plain and simple. I give you another theory—Alanna's secret was discovered by someone far less trusting than yourself, and blackmailed her or offered to pay her for her services as an assassin. Tortall has enemies—the country would be in disarray if all of its rulers or potential rulers were executed."

"Calm yourself, Roger," Myles said. "You do not want to overexert yourself if your injuries are as serious as you say."

"The palace's healers have done a remarkable job speeding me along to recovery," Roger said quietly. "Doubtless I would have died had they been in cohorts with Alanna of Trebond."

"Enough of this!" Roald said. "Is there anything else pertaining to the defense of Alanna of Trebond that you wish to bring up, Sir Myles?"

"Only that Alanna was a gifted squire and a dear friend of the prince who has shown nothing but the utmost commitment and loyalty to the royal family and her country," Myles said. He stood and bowed to the king before returning to his seat among the court.

"Anyone else for the defense of Alanna of Trebond?" Roald asked.

"I would like to speak," Jonathan said quietly.

"What did you say?" Roald asked, turning to look at his son.

"I would like to speak on behalf of my squire, whom I knew as Alan of Trebond," Jon said loudly.

Roald sighed. "Speak, Jonathan."

Alanna felt numb as she heard Jonathan speak about her, her faults and her virtues as his squire, the eccentricities that she exhibited that could only have stemmed from her being a girl in hiding.

"Alan was like a brother to me," she heard him say. "I would expect nothing but the deepest of loyalty from him—no matter if he is called Alan or Alanna. The charges of treason against him are rooted in nothing but speculation and fallacies, and never has Alan done anything to hurt me. He—she—has shown nothing but the deepest devotion to the royal family and to me, and accusing her of high treason is nothing short of ridiculous."

He nodded his head to his father and returned to his seat, throwing himself hard into the chair. Alanna hadn't ever seen him so pale—but his face warmed slightly when he looked at her and gave her a small smile.

"Is there any other evidence that can be presented in favor of Alanna of Trebond before we move on?" Roald asked, looking around the courtroom warily.

Alanna glanced behind her and noticed that Myles was conversing quietly with a page holding a letter. Myles stood up quickly, taking the letter from the boy's hands and saying loudly, "Your Majesty, I have just received a letter that I have been advised has come straight from a mage at the palace who has been in contact with Alanna of Trebond's brother, Lord Thom of Trebond, who is currently studying in the City of the Gods. The letter is addressed to me, with a note asking that it be read to you at Alanna's trial. If I may?"

Roald nodded. "Please."

Myles strode to the front of the courtroom and broke the seal on the letter. Clearing his throat, he read:

"I write in regards to my sister, Alanna of Trebond. I would have been in attendance of her trial myself, however, I was unable to travel such a great distance in so short a time. I instead have been in contact with a mage who transcribed this letter for me to be delivered to Sir Myles of Olau for the purpose of reading aloud at my sister's trial.

"I have been told that the charges against her will be an assortment of accounts of treason. Rest be assured, my sister has never been involved in any conspiracies against the crown. Her masquerade as a boy began when we, as twins, chose to switch places when we were ten years old. I did not wish to become a knight, and chose instead to go to the Daughters of the Goddess to learn sorcery. Alanna had always been more of a fighter than I, and together we concocted the plan to switch places, where she would hide her gender and become a knight of Tortall.

"Very few were made aware of this switch, and those who did know were sworn to secrecy. Obviously, the switch was easier on me than it was on my sister, as I did not have to hide my gender. However, Alanna has told me that she intended to reveal her gender upon achieving knighthood, and never has there been any sort of plot that either of us participated in that was against Tortall or the royal family.

"This deception was merely done in the hopes that my sister would become the warrior that she has always dreamed of being. There has been no other motive for this switch for either of us, other than following our passions. My twin, though ambitious, would never kill to hide her secret.

"I thank you for your consideration of my twin and I. Please forgive her for her deception and please, realize that there was not even a hint of treason in this plan.

"Signed, Lord Thom of Trebond."

Myles shook his head. "That is all, your Majesty."

Roald nodded. "Very well. I believe that all we have left is the testimony of Alanna of Trebond. He gestured to her. "Begin."

She walked to the front of the room sat.

Alanna took a deep breath. "I… I don't know where to begin. My brother explained how I came to become a page and then a squire in his letter. Please understand, I just wanted to be a knight. I was never any good at being a lady, and I wanted to be a warrior. I wanted to fight for the crown, and there was no way for me to do that as a girl, so… I became a boy.

"No one at the palace save for my manservant Coram knew about me. His silence on this matter was due to the fact that he knew my brother would have difficulty fulfilling any obligations to the crown, and knew that I would be able to do much better. I didn't want to burden anyone with the knowledge, and I didn't want my friends to think less of me if they knew who I really was. Duke Baird figured out my secret a few weeks ago, when Jonathan asked him to talk to me about something… he could figure it out, I guess, since he's such a good healer and knows these sort of things.

"But he said he wouldn't report me right away, and told me to tell J—the prince so that he could tell his Majesty and Duke Gareth and maybe let me stay. He would've told you, I was going to tell, and I was going to tell very soon! He gave me a deadline to tell by, or he would send Duke Gareth an anonymous letter informing him of my gender."

She took another breath, and met Roger's eyes with hers. "I would never, ever do anything to hurt my Prince, my King, or a member of the royal family. It was never my intention to let harm befall any of them. It was my intention to protect and serve the crown as generations of Trebonds have done in the past.

"Roger invited me to have a practice duel with him. Foolishly, I agreed to use real swords when he accused me of being afraid… He sent Alex to get padding, but then started to attack before Alex came back. I never meant to hurt him, but I can't say the same for him. He took swing after swing at me, and I was merely defending myself. He told me that he had found out my secret, and that I was in the way to the throne and that he would kill me. He cut my side, but… I… I healed it, my magic or something must've… I called for Alex to help me because I thought that perhaps Duke Roger was getting a little too absorbed in the fight, but Alex… Alex just watched. He didn't do anything until I hurt Roger. Roger was trying to kill me, and Alex let him."

"You lie!" Roger snarled. "It was a friendly duel that our dear _lady squire_ took advantage of. If I hurt you, wench, why is there no wound?"

"There was a wound!" Alanna exclaimed. "My body… my body must have pulled the magic out of me to heal it. I don't know how it happened."

"You are lying," Roger said simply.

"It seems unlikely that your magic could simply be 'pulled out,' of you as you describe, squire. Though possible, that is a highly unlikely occurrence," the king told her.

"But it's the truth!"

"Please, squire, do not get overexcited. Continue with your story."

"I didn't mean to hurt Roger. It was an accident. He… he was trying to kill me, and I saw an opening and took it. I didn't mean to hurt him so badly."

"And?"

"And… that's it," she said. "Roger tried to kill me because he said that I was in the way to the throne. There's nothing more to it."

Roger began to laugh. "You cannot possibly believe this," he said. "As if I do not have everything I could possibly want already. My uncle is a fine ruler and my cousin Jonathan will be a fine king when it is his time. I have been nothing but faithful to my blood and to my country."

"Trebond, your story does not hold," Roald told her. "Even if my nephew was plotting against me, you fail to clarify why he would be trying to kill you. You are not an heir to the throne."

"I don't know either!" Alanna exclaimed. "All I know is that in a friendly practice duel, Roger tried to kill me and I just defended myself. I don't know why he would want to hurt me, but it's the truth."

"I believe that we have heard enough," Roald said. He stood and announced to the courtroom, "I will make my decision within the hour and announce it to the court." He stepped down from the dais and went through a small door behind the raised platform.

Alanna waited.


	16. Sentencing

Roald emerged from the doorway in the back of the courtroom. Alanna quickly sat up, rubbing her eyes. It had been a long hour.

He carried a large piece of parchment, rolled up and tied with a dark blue ribbon. As he approached the center of the courtroom, he cleared his throat loudly and waited for the chatter of the crowd to subside.

"Regarding the trial of Alanna of Trebond and her crimes of high treason and conspiracy to commit high treason: I have reached my decision."

Alanna swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

Roald untied the ribbon and read from the parchment. "With the power invested in me by Mithros, the Great Mother Goddess, all of the other gods and goddesses, and the people of Tortall, I hereby find Alanna of Trebond to be guilty of the crime of high treason and conspiracy to commit high treason. As has been indicated by my predecessors, these crimes will carry the punishment of death."

"No!" Jon shouted, getting to his feet. "No, that will not happen! Father, what are you doing?"

Roald glanced at his son coolly. Quietly, so only Jonathan and Alanna could hear, he said, "Please, Jonathan, control yourself. We can discuss this in private if you wish, but the girl has committed serious crimes and must be punished accordingly. Do not question my judgment." He turned back to the courtroom as Jonathan's face flushed bright red.

But the noise of the crowd almost overpowered him. Though they had gone quiet when he was scolding the prince, the people now had erupted into a frenzy of talk over the king's announcement. Roald struggled to speak over the noise. Finally, nearly shouting, he said, "Her execution will take place upon Traitor's Hill in two days' time, one hour before sundown."

A sound escaped Jonathan that sounded much like a suffocated yelp. He grabbed Alanna's forearm. "I'm going to take care of this, don't worry."

She looked up at him, violet eyes wide in shock. "I just… how did this happen?" Jon could see the glisten of a tear in the corner of her eyes. "You know that I'm telling the truth, Jon." She looked down. "You know Roger's lying."

"I know," Jon said. "I'll take care of this, don't—hey, wait!" The guards who had been near the doors had grabbed Alanna and pulled her to her feet.

"Sorry Highness," the taller one said. "By His Majesty's orders we must escort the prisoner back to the dungeon immediately."

"Give me a second!" Jon said. "I'm trying to talk to her!"

"Sorry," he repeated. "Orders are orders. You can speak to the king if you wish to talk to the prisoner."

"I guess I'll do that then," he said through gritted teeth. Jonathan turned on his heel and marched over to the dais where Roald still stood, watching the courtroom as the crowd began to shuffle away.

"A word, Father?" he asked.

"I'm deeply sorry, Jonathan," Roald said, "but you know the punishment that treason carries."

"Well then perhaps we should discuss this in private," Jonathan hissed. He walked to the back door where Roald had disappeared earlier. He held it open and stared pointedly at his father.

Roald sighed. "Very well," he said, and walked through the open door. Jonathan followed him, closing it shut behind them.

"What are you thinking?" Jonathan asked. "Alanna is not guilty. This is absolutely ridiculous. At the very least truth-telling mages should have been used, if only to simply see what the results were."

"I'm afraid not," Roald said. "I was advised that this would not hold accurate in the presence of such a powerful mage."

"Roger?" Jonathan asked.

"No, I'm talking about Trebond," Roald said. "She would have been able to falsify the testimony of the mages so that it would go her way."

"You think that Alanna has more power to influence than your nephew, nearly twenty years her senior and having that much more experience?" Jonathan asked bitterly.

"I do not know the limitations of your former squire's power!" Roald snapped. "And I do not trust anyone who lied about their identity for the entirety that I have known them who just tried to murder a member of the royal family."

"But that trial wasn't even fair! You didn't listen to anyone in her defense! How could you declare her guilty over that pathetic excuse for a fair trial?"

"That is my decision and it is final," Roald said. "We need not discuss it further."

Jon balled his fists at his side, digging into his palms with his nails. He took a deep breath. "Please explain to me how you reached your decision then," he said slowly, "for I have seen no solid evidence that Alanna is a traitor aside from hiding her gender."

"What, other than the potentially fatal injury suffered by my nephew? I think your word and the word of others hardly stands against the solid evidence that Roger nearly died at her hand." He raised his eyebrow. "And while I am still king I do not need to be questioned from the likes of you—a newly-minted knight who is barely old enough to be called a man. Leave me be, Jonathan, and let me do the job that the gods have given me."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed, and he felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and anger. "As your heir, I think I have the right to discuss matters of the kingdom with you, especially matters that concern me. Alanna is not a traitor. She is my squire, and the most loyal I could hope for."

Roald wouldn't meet his eyes. "Get out, Jonathan. I have work to do." He turned his back to his son and left the room, leaving Jonathan with his fists white and his face a ruddy crimson. The prince stared at the door for a moment, shaking his head slowly.

* * *

"How are you farin'?" George asked Jon quietly. He leaned against the wooden bedpost of Jonathan's bed, crossing his arms as he evaluated the prince.

"I've been better," Jon said. He sighed, resettling in his heavy oak desk chair as he tried to straighten out his crumpled tunic. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, George noted. He looked pretty much the same way that George felt.

"George, what are we going to do?" Jon asked.

George looked at him and raised one eyebrow slightly, his hazel eyes fixed upon Jonathan's blue ones. "You know very well what we have to do," he said grimly. "Alanna is dead in two days if we do nothin'."

Jon frowned and leaned against the back of his chair. "So do you have a plan, or is that what you're here for?" he asked.

"Aye," George nodded. "I have a plan, and that is what I am here for."

"So what is it, then?" Jon asked, staring at George's boots. "My father won't change his mind. Something is wrong with him; he's being completely irrational."

George nodded. "Some are blinded to the truth they wish not to see," he said. "My plans were a bit more… on my side of the law."

Jon gave him a crooked smile. "How many Rogues are in the guard?" he asked.

"Five total," George told him. "Two on the night shift a few times a week and the other three rotate on the day shift."

Jon drummed his fingers on his desk. "A night escape would be more convenient," he said.

 _That can be arranged._

The two men jumped. Faithful had appeared next to George, who bent down to scratch his head. _I do not like to interfere too much, but you know your Rogues must be the ones on guard when we plan the escape. It is much easier to subdue those who allow themselves to be subdued._

Jon smiled weakly. "True," he said. "So can you arrange for George's men to be on guard tomorrow night?" he asked.

 _Of course_ , Faithful purred.

"So that's taken care of, then," Jon said. "But what about the rest of the plan? Where can we hide Alanna, and for how long?"

George shook his head. "The goal is to clear her name. To do that we need to pinpoint who really wants to commit treason… who's behind all this," he said. "Her brother is already on the road. He's comin' from the opposite way we're headin', so we're going to be travelin' along the coast and he's goin' to catch up with us, either on the road or in Port Legann."

"But what's in Port Legann? Is that the final destination?" Jon asked.

"No," George said, "Carthak is."

"Carthak? Why?" Jon asked. He petted Faithful absentmindedly, who purred in response.

"Ask Thom," George said. "I've no notion for his reasons, but he said that will be the best place to hide Alanna and get to the root of the problem."

Jon was frowning. "I don't like the sound of this," he said. "Carthak's not safe for Alanna at all. They'd have put her to death there just for dressing like a man."

George shrugged. "Thom was insistent upon it. He said he would explain it in full when we met up. In any case, travelin' south is a good idea. Port Legann will be a good place to stay regardless of whether or not we carry on to Carthak. It's far enough away from Corus that I doubt many would think to look for Alanna there, at least for a few weeks."

Jonathan nodded. "I suppose," he said. "But… Carthak? I wish I knew why Thom thinks we should go there. It doesn't make sense to take such an unnecessary risk to hide her somewhere like that. We're bound to attract attention, redheaded twins and the heir to the Tortallan throne… not to mention Corus's own King of the Rogue, if those we meet are familiar with your way of life. I can't stay with Alanna if my presence will get her recognized or killed."

"We'll talk with Thom about it in Port Legann," George said. "For now, I'd rather focus on gettin' Alanna out of here and on the road."

"Okay," Jon agreed. "But still, I'm not sure how long I can stay with you without putting everyone in danger. I look just like my father, and if I disappear when Alanna does, my father will be… concerned."

George nodded. "Perhaps you needn't be involved in the escape then, Jonathan. Leave now and you can beat us to Port Legann, and you will be long gone before Alanna escapes—plenty of time to keep you from lookin' guilty when she breaks out."

Jonathan drummed his fingers on the back of his chair. "You're right. I'll go now, and I'll make sure everyone knows I am gone. Where can I meet you?"

"There's an inn where I know some Rogues at," George said. "Thom's supposed to meet us there. Tell the innkeeper you're a friend of mine and you'll have nothin' to worry about. He's an old friend who owes me a favor."

Jon smiled. "I have a feeling you have a lot of those, don't you?" he said.

"What, friends?" George grinned from ear to ear. "Comes with the business."

Jon shook his head. "Never mind. What's the name of this inn?"

"The Golden Griffon," he said. "Most just call it Goldgriff."

 _As fascinating as your plans are, I'm afraid I have some business I must take care of,_ Faithful said. _This is where I will leave you._ _Rest be assured I will have your Rogues on duty tomorrow night, but I will not be accompanying you on your journey south._

"Alanna's not goin' to like that," George said.

 _I need to keep an eye on things here,_ Faithful said. _It will serve her better for me to stay rather than traveling with her._

George smiled. "Will you be relayin' that message to her, or will I be?" he asked.

 _It may be necessary for you to tell her this,_ Faithful told him.

George nodded. "Very well then," he said. "Thank you, and I hope we shall be meetin' again soon, my friend."

Jon gave the cat one last scratch behind his ears before Faithful strut off with a walk of great purpose.

"Well… I think that's pretty much everything," Jon said. "Meet you in Port Legann?" he smiled, and both men stood straight.

"Aye," George said. "May the Goddess bless you and keep you safe on your journey."

"Likewise," Jonathan said. "May Mithros guide you." The two men embraced, and George disappeared from the prince's room into the shadows of the palace corridor.


	17. Plotting

"What do you _mean_ you're leaving?" Raoul said.

"Exactly what I said," Jon told him. "I will not watch my father kill my squire for something that she is not guilty of."

"So you're just going to let it happen, then, are you?" Raoul asked, beginning to shake. "You're just going to walk away and let her die."

"I have no choice in the matter!" Jon snapped. "I'm not exactly in a position of authority over my father, am I?"

"You are the _crown prince_ , son of the king and knightmaster to Alanna, and you think you can do _nothing_?" Raoul said.

"I have done my best," Jon said coolly. "I am leaving Corus and I am not coming back for as long as I can manage."

"I can't believe this," Raoul said.

"Get used to it," Jon said. He turned around and started walking down the hall, stomach twisting. He hated to lie to his friends.

"Coward."

Jon stopped. He turned and glared at Raoul. "Don't you ever call me that again," he said.

"Yes, _your highness_ ," Raoul spat.

Jon turned back around and stomped down the hall.

Raoul shook. He watched Jon storm down the hall until he rounded a corner and Raoul could no longer see him or hear the slamming of his feet against the stone floor. He quietly slipped out of his room and walked down the hall. He stopped in front of the door at the end, took a deep breath, and knocked on it.

Gary answered the door, his face pale and weary. "I know, he came and talked to me first," he said.

"Oh... so you heard Jon and me, then?"

Gary nodded slowly.

"And?" Raoul demanded.

"And what?" Gary asked. "We have no more control over him than he has over his father."

"I know that," Raoul snapped. "But we have plenty of control over ourselves."

Gary looked unhappy. "So what are you saying?" he asked.

Raoul looked him in the eye until he met his gaze. "You know very well what I'm saying," he told him. " _We_ are going to get our friend out of there."

Gary sighed. "I thought that's what you'd say. Come in here. Let's do this thing proper."

Raoul obeyed, stepping into Gary's room. In typical fashion, his desk was littered with stacks of papers and scrolls.

"What's this?" Raoul asked, grabbing the paper on top. "It looks like a map."

"That's because it is… sort of," Gary told him as gathered up the papers on his desk, throwing most onto his bed. Gently, he took the scroll out of Raoul's hands and placed it back on the desk, smoothing the edges so the whole thing was visible.

"After the trial, I thought that Jon would come to us for help in getting Alanna out of there if his father couldn't be persuaded to fix that ridiculous excuse for a trial. I didn't... I didn't expect that conversation to go the way it did."

Raoul snorted. "Neither did I," he said. "Prick. I can't believe he'd run out on a friend like that."

Gary frowned. "It's not just that," he said. "I managed to procure these as soon as the trial was over. When Jon came here, I showed them to him. You know what he told me? He said not to bother, that we couldn't do anything about it and we might as well accept it."

" _What?_ " Raoul was nearly shouting now. "Not only did he run out on us, but he told you not to do anything?"

"Raoul, calm down. We don't need him, we can do this ourselves. I don't know what he's thinking right now, maybe he's just out of his head worrying. But we need to work together if we want this to work."

Raoul took a deep breath. "I know," he said. "But you don't see either of _us_ fleeing the damn city when a friend is in trouble. Where in the code of chivalry does it say _that_?"

"I don't know," Gary said quietly. "But stop pacing and come look at this."

Raoul hadn't even realized he hadn't stopped moving since Gary set the map on the desk. He leaned over the side and squinted. "This looks like the castle," he said. "What is this, blueprints or something?"

Gary nodded. "When the palace was built, there were dozens of passages built into the walls to hide the royal family in case of an attack. Not many of them are known about because access to the original castle blueprints is severely limited... They aren't of any use if everyone knows about them, I guess."

"Then how did you get them?" Raoul asked.

Gary looked away, face flushed.

"Oh," Raoul said. "So... find anything useful?"

Gary nodded and pointed to a section of the map. "It would only make sense to have passages leading out of the dungeons, in case the royals were ever imprisoned in their own dungeons in the event of a takeover. As long as no one else knew about them, the dungeons would remain a secure place to house prisoners until they were sent to work, released, or executed."

"So these passages... Are you sure they're still there?" Raoul asked. He looked at the map, squinting. "I think I see what you're talking about, but how do we know they're still there?"

"We don't," Gary said, "but it's still the best chance we've got."

* * *

Roald found his wife in tears, clutching a small piece of parchment.

"He's left, you fool," she sobbed, handing him the note. He could barely read it through the blotches that were spread across the page where Lianne's tears smeared the ink.

He finished reading and looked up. "I'll bring him back," he said, handing the note back to her.  
She took it and put it on the table as she blew her nose with a lacy handkerchief. "How?" she asked, looking up at him with red eyes.

"Jonathan will come back, even if I have to send the whole army after him."

* * *

"I can't believe it was that easy," Alex said, smoothing a lock of dark hair away from his face.

Roger smiled. "Did you ever doubt me?"

Alex shook his head. "I thought you wanted to take care of her yourself."

"But I did," Roger said. "His Majesty simply needed… persuasion. And in this way my hands will remain clean in this matter."

Alex nodded. "I guess. Aren't you worried her friends—Jonathan, Myles, someone—will try to interfere, though? It seems… uncharacteristic… that they'd just let her be executed."

"I know, Alex. I would kill her myself now… but since her trial ended, I have realized that letting her escape offers so many more opportunities. Her death will come soon, I promise."

"You told me before that this would have been her end."

"I know, Alex, but think of what we can do with her alive. Those who help her escape will be in trouble for aiding a traitor, making them traitors themselves. They could not possibly stay here after helping her escape. And if they are not here… they will not be in our way."

Alex nodded hesitantly. "I suppose…"

Roger raised his eyebrow. "If it would appease you any, Alex, I can promise you that if the opportunity arises, you have my permission to kill her yourself. _After_ we let her escape, however."

Alex smiled and stood. "Then I will look forward to that time."


	18. An Honest Woman

It was past one o'clock in the morning when George knocked quietly on the door to the dungeon. It swung open, revealing a familiar face. The guard—a rogue—blocked the doorway of the dungeon so George couldn't see around his burly frame.

"Ye need t' be quiet," the man said softly. "Knock me out now and take the keys from my left pocket. Dell's pretendin' t' be asleep on his stool right in front o' her door, so ye can go a little easier on him."

George nodded. "I brought a little somethin' so that you won't remember the last day or so, if that's all right. That way even if you're questioned you can be truthful in your lack of knowledge."

"All right," he said.

"Sorry," George whispered, raising his hand to apply a chokehold to the rogue's neck. The man nodded and submitted to George's touch, quietly slipping away into unconsciousness. George took a small handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his guard's nose as he lowered him to the ground, wiping away the memories the man had of the plans they had made to free Alanna.

His practiced fingers prevented the jumble of keys from make even the faintest sound as his hand clasped them in the guard's pocket. Quietly, he made his way over to the other side of the dungeon, where his other guard and Alanna waited.

"I've a memory wiper here," he whispered in the man called Dell's ear. Dell nodded groggily. George applied a similar chokehold as he had done to the other rogue and lowered him to the floor, where he again held the handkerchief over the young man's mouth. He glanced back down at the long row of cells. Satisfied that all had gone unnoticed by the other prisoners, he took the keys from his pocket and picked out the largest one that he knew would open Alanna's cell. His man had shown him which one it was on his last visit to the dungeon, and George remembered—the largest key would open the castle's most heavily protected cell.

He stuck the key in the lock and turned. The door opened with a quiet creak.

Alanna, who had been seated by the door, jumped. The dim light from the dungeon hallway filtered into her cell. She squinted to look up at the man who had just come in.

"George," she whispered.

But George was not looking at Alanna. Instead, he was watching as the back wall of Alanna's cell started to move. A figure appeared, hesitating before it moved toward Alanna.

George met the man and tackled him, pinning him to the floor with an impressively graceful twist. The man struggled, and George placed the same chokehold as he had to his two men.

When he was quiet, George turned him over to get a better look at his face. Though now smudged and dirty, the face that looked up at them was clearly that of Raoul of Goldenlake.

George swore. "What in Mithros' name is he _doin'_?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Alanna said. "He must be trying to break me out too."

"Well, we can't have him gettin' in trouble for this too," George said. "Too many of your friends wrapped up in this and we'll all go down for it." He sighed.

Alanna hung her head. "I'm sorry, George."

"Not now," he said. "I've knocked the poor bloke out. I was afraid he was goin' to make a noise and give us away. We better get him out of here before the next shift gets here and you're discovered missin'."

Alanna nodded. "How in the hell did he get in here?" she asked. "That was a solid stone wall, and there's got to be dozens of spells placed on this damn cell to prevent me from escaping."

"I've no notion," George said, "but it looks like where he came from might be the best way out."

George grabbed the burly Raoul under the armpits and tried to pull him up. "Lass, I'm goin' to need some help with this," he said. "Our friend Raoul here is a bit larger than the folk I'm used to handlin'."

Alanna scrambled to stand up and grabbed Raoul's feet. Together, they were able to lift Raoul up and carry him down the passageway that he had appeared in her cell from. It sloped upward, with a step up every few feet or so. A bead of sweat appeared on Alanna's forehead, and she shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to wipe it on her tunic. Raoul was _much_ heavier than any of the equipment she'd ever practiced with. She noticed that even George was panting slightly as they made their way up through the dark, narrow passageway.

"I wonder what this is?" she asked.

"Raoul?" a voice called softly.

"Who's there?" Alanna called.

"Oh, it's you," Gary whispered. Alanna could see the outline of her friend's face by the light of the candle that he held, which gently illuminated the outline of the corridor.

"Mithros," he whistled as they got closer. "What happened to Raoul?"

George shook his head. "I didn't know who he was," he said. "I thought that he might have been… someone else. Not a friend. In any case, I didn't want him to make a noise after I tackled him, so I knocked him out."

Gary frowned. He bent over Raoul's body as they set him down. "He's going to have a nasty bump in the morning," he told them.

George was frowning as well. "Gary, I hate to do this. But you can't know what happened here. I don't want any more of Alanna's friends gettin' in trouble on her behalf if they don't have to do so."

"Well, it's a little late for that now, isn't it?" he said. "The two of us have done as much to help her escape as you have at this point, so we're all in this together now."

George shook his head. "No, it doesn't have to be like this," he said. "If we can get Raoul here back to his room, I have somethin' wiped on the handkerchief in my pocket that will make you forget the events of the last day or so. No one—not even you—would be the wiser to what happened here."

Gary nodded. "It's not likely Raoul will remember anything anyway after the number you did on him, but I see your point. Keep it clean."

George smiled. "You lads at the palace don't need to get in trouble when we have a rogue to blame this mess on," he said. "No use all of you gettin' locked up or bein' on the run with her."

"I suppose you're right," Gary said. "Raoul and I hadn't really talked through what we were going to do _after_ we got Alanna out of here."

"Right," George said. "Well, we best get Raoul out of here and into his rooms." He turned to Alanna. "I believe we've another hour before the night watch changes and my friends are discovered. Let's get Raoul back to his room and Gary to his before we head off, all right?" he said.

She nodded.

George nudged Gary. "I think you'll have a little more luck helpin' me carry this big lad back to his bed," he said. "It was a little difficult for Alanna here to lift him, what with her… lack of stature," he teased.

Alanna scowled. "I did a perfectly fine job lifting him off the ground, George. But come on now, before someone sees us."

"Right," Gary said. "I've got a cloak for you, too, Alanna. We figured we could use a disguise to hide your hair." He pulled out a plain brown cloak, which she took and covered herself with. It was much too big for her, but it did the job of hiding her face and hair as well as any would.

Alanna called her Gift to her as Gary blew out his candle. "It's dark, isn't it?" she whispered.

"Aye," George nodded. "But darkness is a good thing. We know we're alone right now."

"So where does this come out?" Alanna asked.

"Just the floor above," Gary said. "It's not much farther now."

Alanna could see the flicker of a lighted corridor at the end. "How'd you get through the wall?" she asked.

"I used my Gift," he said. "The hole that we came through must still be open."

"Guess they won't be wondering how I got out," she said. "But how did you…I mean, how'd you know where this was?"

Gary shrugged. "You know there are some old passages used to help the royal family escape if there's ever a siege or something. I just… found out where this one was."

"Quiet now," George whispered. They were approaching the end of the passage, and Alanna could now make out the tapestries lining the wall outside, identifying the corridor as being the one right above the dungeon. It wasn't far from Raoul's room, Alanna knew, but any wandering servant could come across them and recognize them. Two men carrying an even bigger man, followed by another person would attract suspicion—unless, of course, that person reeked of booze and a banquet had just ended. Under these circumstances, though, it would definitely appear odd.

Something brushed Alanna's heels. "Faithful!" she whispered, stooping to pick her cat up.

 _Don't worry,_ he said. _I've made it safe for you to leave the palace._

Gary stared. "Did he just…?"

"What?" Alanna asked.

"Never mind," Gary said, shaking his head.

Alanna hugged her cat a little more tightly than he would have preferred. "I missed you," she said, burying her nose into his dark fur.

 _I've been busy helping you_ , the cat said, a little haughty after the indignity he had just suffered at her hands.

"Oh," Alanna said.

"Faithful was the one who ensured my men would be guardin' you tonight, lass," George whispered softly.

 _And the one who's cleared these hallways for you to escape,_ Faithful told them.

Alanna thanked her cat profusely. "Are you coming with us?" she asked as she lifted her cat up and placed him on her shoulders.

 _I can't_ , he told her, now purring into her ear as she scratched him gently. _I need to stay here, to keep an eye on things._

"But what if I need you?" Alanna asked.

 _You don't need me,_ her cat told her. _You have your own path to follow, and a quest is no place for a cat_.

"Quest?" Alanna asked.

 _You know what you must do,_ Faithful told her.

"I… I guess," she said. They were at Raoul's room now. Alanna fumbled with Raoul's pockets to find his key and then unlocked the door for her friends. She darted past them to the bed to pull the covers back for her friend. Gary and George propped him up the side of the bed and eased him onto it. Alanna pulled the covers back over him and tucked a pillow under his head, wincing as she noticed the dark bruise that had blossomed on his forehead a few inches from his temple.

George pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and briefly held it under Raoul's nose. He listened for a second, then, satisfied that Raoul had breathed deeply enough, threw it back into his pocket.

 _I will watch him tonight,_ Faithful said. _But first, we must help Gary._

"What do you mean?" Alanna asked, but her cat did not answer.

They all followed Faithful out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. Gary opened the door to his room, and they all followed him inside.

"This will work better if you're asleep," George said, pulling the handkerchief out again.

Gary shook his head. "I don't think that'll happen any time soon," he said.

 _Nonsense,_ Faithful said. _That is what I came for. Get into bed._

Gary looked at the cat curiously, then obeyed, stopping only to pull off his thick leather boots.

As soon as he laid his head back on his pillow, his eyes drooped, and he let out a small snore. Alanna suppressed a giggle as she watched George press the handkerchief to her friend's nose.

"You'll fill them in on the events of yesterday?" he asked the cat. "I don't want them to know about our plans, but I wouldn't be surprised if they forget about the trial in its entirety. Let them know that they had to be drugged, but make sure they know it was by a friend and they agreed to it—or Gary did, anyway."

Faithful nodded. _Of course_.

"Come on now," George whispered. "We'd best take an unconventional way out of here or we're bound to run into someone we'd rather not." He walked over to Gary's window and was about to pull it open before Faithful jumped on his hands.

 _You underestimate me,_ the cat said. _The guards to the entrance of the castle have temporarily felt the urge to vacate their posts, and everyone you come across in the castle will instantly forget that they have seen you after you disappear from their sight. You are safe until you have left the palace grounds._

"All right," George said, grinning. "How you tease a poor thief like me when you make a promise like that."

Faithful was not amused. _Go!_

"Thank you," George told the cat, who nodded in reply.

Alanna scooped up her cat, hugging him with nearly as much vigor as she had before. "Thanks," she whispered. "For everything." She put him down and followed George out of Gary's room.

They walked quickly. Though reassured by Faithful's promise, neither of them anticipated coming across someone like Duke Roger out for a late night stroll as they were escaping from the castle. They passed a few people on their way out, who sleepily glanced at them for a second before their eyes glazed over and they walked away. George whispered the plans to her as they walked.

"You'll have to borrow one of my horses," he whispered. "Moonlight is an uncommonly pretty beast. I don't want to attract attention from thieves or from those on the lookout for you."

Alanna didn't answer, simply nodding as he filled her in on what the next few days were going to look like. She supposed she really didn't need to answer, what with the immediate plans so clearly laid out and her brother apparently keeping the rest of the plans involving Carthak to himself.

As Faithful had promised, there was no one at the front entrance or at the front gate as they left. "We must be careful, now," George whispered as they slipped through the wrought-iron gate. "This is where Faithful's protection ends and mine begins."

The streets of Corus were as dark and poorly lit as they had been upon Alanna's last visit. This time, though, she was grateful for the cover that darkness provided, calling no more attention to her than need be. To anyone they passed, they would look like anyone from the lower city: a man and his brother, a prostitute and her client: the possibilities were endless and quite unremarkable with Alanna's ambiguous face and stature.

They reached the Dancing Dove quickly. George led Alanna to a side entrance that she had previously been unaware of. There was nothing but a ladder inside, leading straight up to a dark ceiling.

"Trap door," he said. "Comes out next to my bed."

She nodded and stood at the bottom of the ladder, watching as he unlocked the door and lifted it gently. He gestured for her to follow him as he hoisted himself through the hole and onto his floor.

She closed the door behind them and scurried up the ladder. She accepted his hand when she reached the top, and he pulled her through.

Her foot caught on the ledge, and she stumbled, falling into George's arms. He pulled her back up to her feet, steadying her before she finally was able to stand straighten up.

"Thanks," she said, a little breathlessly.

"Of course," he whispered back, with the same intonation in his voice. He cleared his throat. "I have a few things to take care of before we're ready to go," he said. "Wait here for me, okay? Try not to fall asleep or you'll never be able to keep your eyes open on the road."

She scowled. "I know that, George Cooper."

"Well I thought another reminder couldn't hurt," he retorted with a bemused smile. He left her, chuckling to himself as he caught a glimpse of her yawning and stretching as he closed and locked the door behind him.

He found her curled up like a cat in his bed, snoring softly as she hugged his pillow to her chest.

"Wake up, lass," he said gently as he shook her shoulder.

"What? I wasn't asleep!" she said, shooting up.

George grinned. "Never mind that now," he said. "Put this on."

He handed Alanna a wig, a dark brown with curly ringlets. "Curls? You don't have anything more manageable than another set of damned curls?" Alanna moaned.

"I'm sorry lass, 'fraid not. Wigs are none too common among the lower class ladies." He took the wig out of Alanna's hands and placed it upon her head. "Had to borrow this one from one of the lads."

Alanna, in spite of herself, raised an eyebrow and grinned. "And what did he have it for?"

George pursed his lips as he straightened the curly mop on her head. "I hadn't thought to ask," he said. He pulled Alanna's nondescript brown cloak up over her head and new hair and smiled. "This will do," he said. "Save for those violet eyes, you don't look much like yourself."

Alanna blinked. "Is there anything we can do about them, George?" she asked.

He sighed. "You know as well as I do that magic won't do anything to change the way the gods intended you to be."

Alanna made a face. "Asking never hurt."

George grabbed her hand. "One last thing," he said.

"Hm?" she asked, rather absentmindedly. She looked down as he slid a ring upon her finger. "What's this?" she asked, frowning.

George gave her a wicked grin. "It wouldn't be proper for a young lady to be travelin' with someone who wasn't her husband, now would it?"

"George!" Alanna snapped. "I'm not going to play at being married to you! We can just travel as brother and sister."

George tweaked her nose and smiled. "Aye," he said, "but what if some pretty boys want to buy a drink for you? As your brother, I couldn't object _too_ much." He winked at her. "I'll make an honest woman of you yet."


	19. The Morning After

"She's gone?" Roald blinked.

"Aye," the messenger nodded. "Escaped last night through a secret passageway in her cell. Guards were found knocked out. They were questioned under magic, but don't remember a thing."

Roald swore. "Who knew about the secret passageway? How was it opened? Can't the source of the magic be traced?"

The messenger bowed. "I'll see what can be done, your Majesty," he said. "There were blueprints to the dungeons that have gone missing. They are currently in the process of being tracked down."

"Have the search parties for Jonathan left yet?" Roald asked.

The man nodded. "Yesterday, your Majesty," he said. "Only a few hours after you notified them, I believe. Three groups of half a dozen men each were sent out in different directions, per your orders."

"Do they all have mages among them?" he asked.

"I believe they do," his messenger told him.

"See to it that our mages send word to them of Trebond's disappearance. Perhaps we can intercept the traitor even before we find my son."

"As you wish, your Majesty," the man bowed. "Anything else?"

"No. That will be all."

* * *

Raoul groaned as he woke, gently feeling the lump that had formed on his skull. "What happened?" he asked, sitting up with a wince.

 _That doesn't matter,_ Faithful said.

Raoul nearly fell out of bed, clutching a sheet to his chest as he stared at the cat.

"Am I awake?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Faithful glared at him. _Yes_ , he said. _Now tell me what you remember and I will tell you what you do not._

Raoul stared at the cat. "I… I remember that Alanna was on trial. I remember that… oh Mithros, no, she was found guilty, wasn't she? Is her execution today? What happened?" he asked, burying his face in the blanket.

 _Breathe,_ Faithful said. _Alanna is alive. This morning when the watch changed it was discovered that she escaped. You had no knowledge of this and cannot remember the last day because you and Sir Gareth the Younger spent the entirety of yesterday drinking._

"Is that really what happened?" Raoul asked. "Where'd this bump on my head come from?"

 _You fell_ , Faithful said. _It does not matter what 'really' happened. You and Gareth spent all of yesterday drinking and that is what you will say if anyone asks where you were yesterday._

Raoul nodded. "I… think I understand."

 _Good,_ Faithful said. He disappeared out the door as it creaked open, revealing Gary.

Gary gave Raoul a wan smile. "Easiest hangover I've ever had," he said. "Can't remember a thing, but I feel great."

Raoul winced as he poked at the bump on his head. "At least one of us does."

* * *

George sighed as he watched Alanna's head droop again, her face falling into her horse's mane.

"Lass, you need to stay awake," he said, guiding his horse close to hers as he leaned over to shake her gently.

Alanna bolted upright, startling her horse, a pretty mare that until that point appeared to have an easy temper. The horse snorted and reared back, dumping Alanna before taking off at a gallop.

George cursed so fervently that Alanna wanted to cover her ears. "I'm sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

George grabbed Alanna after she stood up, pulling her onto his horse. "We need that horse," he said, urging his horse to gallop. "We won't make it anywhere near Port Legann without her."

Alanna watched as the horse veered off the road and into the forest that bordered it. She sighed. "I'm lighter, George, d'you want me to dump you and this stuff and catch up to her?"

They were in the forest too now, and George was already off the horse and pulling off some of the saddlebags. "Go," he said, patting the horse gently on the bottom.

Alanna and the horse bolted, chasing after the horse that was already seeming to disappear.

George swore again, bending over to pick up a few things that had fallen out of the saddlebags as he had pulled them off the horse. He watched Alanna disappear into the forest and sighed, sitting down on the crunchy forest floor.

A quiet hum filled the air, and George looked up to spot its source. The road, just visible through the trees, showed a large cloud of dust off in the distance. George quietly moved through the trees, stopping at the edge where the road and forest met. He found a bush that seemed to provide enough cover and crouched, covering himself with a few leaves in an effort to blend in.

It looked to be a small group of men, maybe five or six, all riding sturdy horses that didn't come cheaply. George squinted and made out the emblem of the Contés hoisted above the group. He swore. His sources had told him nothing about Conté soldiers traveling on the road at this time.

A few dogs nipped at the heels of the soldiers in back. He cursed again. This was a search party!

But there was no way that a search party would have been able to catch up this quickly. Unless… George groaned. This wasn't a search party for Alanna. This was a search party for Jonathan.

Still, they would be looking for Alanna too if they had heard news of her disappearance. He buried himself deeper into the leaves that surrounded him and prayed to the gods that the group wouldn't pick this time to stop.

They continued on, never slowing their pace as they passed the place where George was hidden. George let out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding and felt the fear in his chest subside. While he knew he could get away from them, if Alanna had come back with the horses right at that moment… Their pace had slowed, and that group would surely have caught up to them if Alanna's horse hadn't bolted.

He thought and waited, only emerging from his bush once he realized he could see Alanna off in the distance, heading back toward him on her horse with his in tow.

He met them and smiled, pulling off her horse and into his arms. "Now's a good as time as any to stop," he said, as she wrinkled her nose at him.

"It's quite a bit easier to let me dismount myself," she said.

He tweaked her nose in reply. "But a lady shouldn't have to do that," he said, grinning.

"And who, exactly, is watching?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

George hesitated, then frowned. "A search party just passed," he said. "I think they were looking for Jonathan."

"Oh…" Alanna said. "I guess it's lucky my horse ran off then, wasn't it?"

George nodded. "I thought she was a good mare when I picked her out," he said. "I believe the gods were watching out for us. It wasn't an accident that she picked then to take off."

Alanna nodded. "I don't doubt that," she said. "But still, it wasn't necessary to dump me." She was rummaging through the saddlebags now, and emerged with a neatly wrapped package that turned out to contain apples and bread. She tossed one to George and took one for herself, whispering a quiet thanks to the goddess for her food and her safety. George heard her and smiled, silently offering his own thanks to the thief god.

Alanna took a few bites of her apple before offering it to her horse, who snorted in reply before leaning forward to take the whole thing.

George chuckled as it trotted off to devour its snack. "I think it's best we stay out of inns," he said. "We don't know where that lot will be holin' up, and I don't fancy comin' across them again."

"But they could be camping out too," Alanna insisted. "His Majesty's soldiers camp out often to save cost and speed the journey."

George thought about it for a minute. "Aye, that might be true," he said. "If we're behind them, then even if they're questionin' innkeepers about who's slept there, they won't have any knowledge on where we've been."

Alanna smiled at the thought of a warm bed.

"But I don't think this will be the only search party sent out for us."

She groaned.

"Lass, let's stay out of the inns as much as possible and sleep on the road," he said. "It'll be faster for us to set up camp than it will to deal with innkeepers. I know you'd prefer a bed, but we have to pass them if we want to beat them to Jonathan."

Alanna sighed. "I guess you're right," she said.

"We'll need to get to an inn to give these horses a rest and get them more food tomorrow night, I'd wager," George said. "I think we can manage a stop at an inn every two nights."

Alanna stuck her tongue out at him. "You know I wouldn't normally care so much about a bed, but stone floor just doesn't allow you much shut-eye," she said. "At least out here I'll have some damn _insulation_ and a bed of leaves instead of a bed of stone."

George smiled. "Let's stay here for a while," he said. "It's nearin' four o'clock, if I'm not mistaken. We can sleep here for a few hours and then travel under the cover of darkness."

Alanna swayed as he said this, yawning loudly. "Sounds good to me," she said.

George chuckled softly to himself. "Aye, lass, I don't think you'd make it another hour on the road." He took the reins of his horse and beckoned Alanna's mare to follow him, leading them all deeper into the woods and away from the road.

"This should do," he said, when the road was far behind them and the sky was streaked with pink. Alanna dug through the saddlebags, finally finding the right one that contained the canvas and twine that would become their shelter. George helped her at first, then gently nudged her to find a blanket and get to sleep.

She found one and made a bed of leaves under the canvas covering that George was nearly done fastening. She was asleep nearly before she hit the ground, and welcomed the crunch of leaves under her stomach.

George finished the tent and stepped back to scrutinize it. Judging it stable enough, he found his own blanket and joined Alanna under the covering, falling asleep almost as quickly as she had.

* * *

George felt something wrap around him and he stirred slightly before sensing the warm body pressed up against his. He smiled and pulled her closer before drifting off back to sleep.


	20. A Bounty of Surprises

Alanna had traveled with the army before and fancied herself to be quite skilled at life on the road, but nothing had prepared her for the pace that George had set for them. At this rate, she thought, they'd probably beat Jon to Port Legann. George rode the horses hard and Alanna harder. She hadn't ever experienced him in the mood he'd been in, snapping at her whenever she'd dared open her mouth to comment or complain. She didn't like him to think her weak, but sometimes the words slipped out before she could stop them. They had ridden in near silence for the last few days, both of them too tired to be anything resembling proper company to each other.

Bored with the never-ending rock, road, and forest that had surrounded them on their journey, Alanna looked up to watch as a hawk circled them lazily overhead. "I think that bird's waiting for one of us to drop dead so it can feast on our flesh," she muttered to her horse as she readjusted her reins.

"What was that?" George hollered back at her without even bothering to turn around. Alanna silently cursed her thief friend's trained ear.

"Nothing," she said.

George held up a hand as he began to slow his horse. Alanna followed suit.

"Lass, if the horses can handle this pace without complainin', then so can you," he said, though Alanna noted the weariness in his eyes. "If we want to leave Port Legann before the king's men get there, we need to stay two steps ahead of them."

They had passed the king's men four days ago through a series of careful maneuvers that mostly just involved waiting for them to stop for a night at an inn. Alanna had been right; the king's men camped out often, but at every inn they passed they had stopped and a few had gone inside to talk while George and Alanna had waited with baited breath to see if they'd all go inside. They didn't want to take any chances and have the army spot them, so they always stayed some distance away as George watched them through the lens of a telescope.

"I know, I know," Alanna grumbled. "I'm just tired." Her stomach growled loudly.

"And hungry, too," George added, letting his stern face slide into a grin. "I've traveled these parts before," he told her. "I think there's a stream near here. Let's make camp off the road here for the night."

Alanna nodded sleepily, doing her best to stay on the saddle. Sundown was still a few hours off, but they had ridden for a better portion of the night before. Alanna knew they could both use a good night's sleep and a cool drink of water. Alanna followed George into the forest, yawning a little.

"I'll set up camp tonight," George said. "You go refill our water."

Alanna slid off her horse and grabbed the flasks that both she and George carried on their horses. They were nearing empty. She'd done her best not to be too greedy during the midday sun, but in the end her thirst had won out and she hadn't had anything left to drink for the last few hours. She headed in the direction where George had pointed and soon heard the telltale sound of running water.

The stream was a small one, but clear enough as far as streams went. She bent down with the flask, resisting the temptation to throw her whole body in the stream. It would be nice to feel clean again.

The flask she filled was one of the best money could buy— _or steal_ , she thought. It was like the ones the wealthier companies of the army used when they traveled, spelled to purify the water as it was filled. She thanked the gods they didn't have to waste time boiling water, which would have had the extra inconvenience of needing to start a potentially location-revealing fire. And—Alanna grimaced at the memory—it also kept them from having to drink warm or even hot water just to quench their thirst. She wasn't quite sure if her taste buds had ever grown back from the one time she'd taken a big swig from a freshly-filled flask—one that hadn't had the time to cool.

She tilted her head back then, eager to relieve her dry-as-bone mouth. As the freezing water flowed down her throat, something bit into her bicep, making her cry out in pain and choke on her water. She looked down at her arm and saw a thin slice of blood, then caught a glimpse of an arrow on the ground behind her.

"George!" she yelled as another arrow whizzed by her. "George, help!"

She saw the archer now, crouched behind a large rock on the other side of the stream. She watched him draw his bow again and threw herself to the ground as he released. Her wig came tumbling off and fell into the water. Alanna winced as she watched it lazily float down the stream. The archer shouted something, but she couldn't quite make out what he said due to the rush of blood to her head, making her ears roar. She mentally cursed as she crawled behind a boulder that shielded her partially from the archer. Staying crouched low, she drew a dagger from her boot and peered slowly around the rock to get a better glimpse of her attacker.

George burst out of the bushes behind her, narrowly missing the archer's next arrow. He had a knife in his hand, and a second later it was gone. Alanna could hear a nauseating gurgle over the quiet trickle of the stream and looked across to see the archer clutching his throat, blood dribbling out of his mouth and down his tunic. The man fell over, his arrows falling out of his quiver and all over the ground.

Alanna stood slowly, straightening as she watched where the archer had been. Other faces began to appear in the woods from behind the archer, all wearing the same thin-lipped and deadened expression. Alanna counted half a dozen men before George grabbed her arm and whispered urgently, " _Run_."

But they couldn't. As they turned, they realized they were encircled: nearly a dozen men were around them, and all were brandishing some type of weapon. No more archers, Alanna noted, but the smallest weapon she saw out there was a dagger. The largest—well, Alanna wished more than anything that she had a sword at her side.

George swore before launching himself at the nearest man, cleanly cutting him down with another knife he had pulled from out of nowhere. There were only a few men on their side of the stream, but Alanna knew it wouldn't take long for the rest to cross over. Already one was advancing on her, so she took a fighting stance and prepared herself.

This man reminded her of a bear standing on its hind legs; he was massive and hairy and wore a snarl akin to the one she'd seen on the skin hanging in Duke Gareth's office. He carried a thick axe and looked like he knew how to use it.

Alanna wanted to run, but she stood her ground and faced the man, who swung at her with his axe. She ducked and managed to get a good slash across his arm, making him howl in pain. But she must not have hurt the man that badly, because seconds later he was swinging his axe again at her. She blocked it, but her evasion of the weapon was at the price of her balance and she toppled into the stream behind her. The man laughed rather thickly as she pulled herself out of the water.

She straightened, and he stopped laughing to take another swing at her. Again she ducked, and used the time to put distance between herself and the bear man. He growled, lunging at her. This time she remembered her training. She let him follow through with the lunge, holding her ground, and then moved at the last second. As she'd hoped, the man's massive weight and subsequently powerful momentum was impossible for him to stop. He collapsed in a massive heap, and she took advantage of this to stab him in the neck. The man gasped and sputtered, spitting blood, but didn't move. Alanna winced as she straightened, glancing around.

She could see that George had already downed two more men and was onto a third. But the others were crossing the stream now, and George couldn't see them advancing on him from behind. She called out his name and he turned, right in time to bring his blade up and stab the man in the heart who'd meant to stab him in the back.

But Alanna now had her own problems to deal with again as another man who had crossed the stream was almost upon her. The man she faced was grinning at her, revealing a row of missing and yellowed teeth. He waved his dagger at her, taunting. "May as well surrender now," he said, "the reward's not worth quite as much if yer dead."

Alanna balked for a second. "Reward?"

"Don't ye know?" the man laughed. "Unfortunately, yer friend isn't quite so lucky. His corpse is worth just as much as it would be bringin' him back in one piece."

Alanna launched herself at the man, catching him by surprise. He stumbled backwards as she leapt toward him, her dagger finding his throat. As he swiped blindly at her with his blade, she drew her own across his neck to slice through the main veins and arteries, just as George had taught her so many years ago when she learned hand-to-hand combat from him. The man fell and lay on the ground beside her, his body convulsing rapidly before becoming motionless.

She felt something warm on her arm and looked down. The man had actually hit her. She watched the blood course down her arm and dribble onto the ground, but realized she couldn't even really feel the pain from the wound. She shook her head, trying to recover, and looked around.

"Nice try," a voice in her ear whispered as cold metal pushed up against her neck. "But not good enough." The blade pressed deeper into her neck and Alanna gulped. "And here I thought we was only goin' t' come across travelers in these parts. Didn't expect t' come across crown traitors with a bounty on their heads, now did we?"

Alanna saw that George had stopped fighting, now holding one of the bandit men just as Alanna was being held. "Let her go," he said, hazel eyes steely.

"Or what?" the man laughed. "Ye'll kill 'im? No, don't worry, I'm not that attached."

The man George held winced and swore before beginning to yell unintelligible curses.

"Now," Alanna's bandit continued, "she is worth far more t' me alive than dead, but I can have her either way and come out of this a rich man. If ye want her t' stay alive, ye will let go of my man and ye will surrender yerself. If ye don't—well, feel free to kill 'im, but she'll be dead before he even falls to the ground and my man behind ye will put a knife in yer back."

Alanna looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet George's eyes. She couldn't believe she'd put them in this position with her carelessness.

George's eyes narrowed as he repeated, "Let her go. You don't know who you're dealin' with."

The man laughed. "I know very well who I be dealin' with _king of thieves_ ," he said with a sneer. "And ye'll be hard-pressed to find anyone who'd want to help ye after ye ran off with this lass and left yer people to deal with the king's men."

George faltered and the man laughed again. "What, ye thought all of yer men were loyal to ye, and no one'd sell ye out for a couple coins? Ye have a very high opinion of thieves, methinks."

Alanna sucked in her breath. The man held her wrist as well as the knife to her throat, and she felt helpless to stop him. The blade wasn't even sharp—it wouldn't be a quick, clean slice that would do her in.

"So what will it be?" the man snarled, pushing the blade even harder into her neck. If it were any sharper, she knew she'd be bleeding.

But George wasn't looking at the man. Instead, he was staring at a hawk that had just plunged out of the sky, diving straight into the face of the man that held Alanna. He let out a yell as its talons went into his eye, and Alanna took advantage of his pain to push him away from her. George had taken advantage of the distraction as well and sliced the throat of the man he held, turning to face the man behind him.

Alanna turned around and watched the bird viciously slash at the man's face, clawing his eyes and making the man's face completely unrecognizable. Alanna shuddered as she saw one of the man's eyeballs actually pop out, rolling to the ground and down to her feet. The man swiped at the bird hard with the knife he held, but it was no use. His throat was cut, bleeding freely like his face. He collapsed on the ground, and the hawk fell to the side.

Not wanting to dwell on the grisly scene, she turned and jogged over to where George was and watched him finish off the last of the bandit men. She would have helped him, but she knew she'd have just gotten in the way. George was a skilled knife-fighter, and he easily finished off the last man with a quick knife in the heart and then another jab in the throat, for good measure. She turned back around to look at the hawk, curious about the possessed creature that had just managed to save her.

But there was no hawk. There was a body next to the bandit man, naked and bleeding profusely. The man looked familiar, the pale, scrawny body and matted auburn hair so much like—

" _Thom!"_ she shrieked.


	21. Add Hawk

" _Thom!"_ she shrieked again. She ran toward her twin and collapsed upon the earth beside him, grabbing his arm to feel for a pulse. She felt the steady rhythm of blood flowing through his wrist and gave a shallow sigh of relief. "Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly.

Thom's eyelids fluttered and he moaned softly, but he didn't move. Her mind blanked; she couldn't think what to do until she heard her brother softly whisper, " _Water._ " She scrambled to her feet and ran to where she had dropped her flask. It had spilled across the dusty ground, so she knelt next to the stream to refill it. Her hands shook as she held it beneath the water's surface, but she managed to fill it completely.

She turned to see George tending to her twin's wounds. His own water canteen dangled from his hip, empty after having been poured over the dirt-filled cut that went straight across Thom's bare chest. George was naked from the waist up, having stripped off his own shirt to use to stopper the flow of Thom's blood. "He needs a healer," George said, looking at her pointedly.

Alanna gulped. "I can't," she whispered. "I haven't…"

George's eyes bored into her own. "You know what to do," he said. She looked down at her twin and saw that, though George applied pressure, the blood still gushed out of Thom's wound, dripping down his sides to mix with the dirt. A sticky, darkly colored mud had formed on the ground beneath him. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Give him some water," she said, handing George her canteen. He obeyed, holding the container to Thom's mouth. She knelt down on the other side of him, opposite George. Still trembling, she placed her hands on her twin's chest and summoned her magic. She found it deep within her, almost buried, and pulled it out of her very core. It flowed through her arms like lightning, making her hair stand on end. She could feel her power going into her twin and surrounding his injuries.

The bleeding subsided. It looked to Alanna as if Thom's flesh was being sewn together, the way it pulled and tightened, but this didn't seem to bother him. Already he looked better; the color was returning to his cheeks and his eyes were half-open, staring at her.

"Sorry," he said. "Saving you wasn't as neat as I imagined it would be."

Alanna laughed through the tears that had already began to stream down her face. "Don't scare me like that, brother," she said, wiping her face on her sleeve.

George pulled away and straightened, looking at the pair with raised eyebrows and a bemused expression on his face. He shook his head and walked off while Alanna used a handkerchief dipped in fresh water to clean off the blood that had begun to congeal to her twin's chest. She worked in silence, and Thom said nothing to her either. Gingerly, she wrapped her twin's chest with a bandage, doing her best to not move him too much, but it was impossible for her to wrap it completely around him without a little effort on his part. He was a good sport about it though, and would turn every so often so that she could get the bandage completely around his body.

George came back with a blanket and a canvas sack that appeared to be stuffed with rags—or clothes, Alanna thought, seeing crimson stains on a few that peeked out. He threw the blanket over Thom's bottom half and held up the stuffed sack. "Might make a good pillow," he said, and bent down to help Thom wedge it beneath his head.

As he straightened up, George looked at Alanna and started. "I didn't realize you were hurt too," he said hoarsely, grabbing her forearm to look at the wound.

"It's nothing," she said, jerking it back.

George looked at her sharply. "It's not _nothin'_ , lass," he said. "That can become infected if you don't take care of it." He took her arm again, gently this time, and examined it carefully. "You need to heal yourself," he said, "or that will slow you down considerably."

She shrugged, but knew he was right. She summoned her magic again, pushing it to flow into her arm rather than through it. She looked down to her wound and watched the skin knit together again, just as Thom's had. It hurt, but nothing that she wasn't used to—she'd had healings before. She knew that if she could see through the blood that caked her skin that her arm would have turned pink around the wound's core, new skin already beginning to form. She sighed as the pain of the healing died down, leaving her only with a tingling feeling near the wound and a tiredness in her body.

"Now go wash that off," George said. Alanna obeyed, walking several yards upstream from where George and Thom were.

George sat with Thom, watching him breathe shallowly before falling into a deep sleep. George noted with satisfaction that his breaths had turned slower and fewer. Hopefully a sleep like this would have Thom healed in no time.

Alanna still hadn't returned. George looked around, but didn't see her. He stood up and walked to the large boulder that was on their side of the stream and found her kneeling next to the water, shaking. The acrid smell of stomach acid filled his nostrils as he got closer.

George swore under his breath. He'd forgotten. She'd never been in a real battle before; this was her first time.

He knelt beside her and put his arm around her. "Don't," she said, "I'm sorry I'm so weak, I just…" she trailed off.

He pulled her into his arms. She didn't protest. "It's okay," he said. "It's never easy to take the life of another. There'd be somethin' wrong with you if it was."

"But you didn't throw up," Alanna said.

"No," George said, "I didn't."

"When does it get easier, then?" she asked.

"It doesn't," George said, "you only get better at realizin' you did what you had to do… that you're only killin' those who are trying to kill you… or people you love."

Alanna looked up at him, her tears burning her cheeks. He saw the clean streaks on her cheeks that ran through the dirt that coated her face and smiled gently. He dipped his sleeve into the stream and used it to gently wipe her face. "There," he said. He kissed her forehead. "Now come on, let's get back to your brother."

Thom had fallen asleep in their absence, but he seemed to be shaking a little. George sighed. "He needs another blanket," he said. "That one's much too thin."

Alanna nodded. She could see her twin's shivers. "I can warm him with my Gift," she said. George shook his head. "You need to save your strength too. I'll see what the bandits left behind at their camp. We're goin' to need another horse, too."

"Wait!" Alanna said. "What if there's more of them?"

George shook his head. "There won't be," he said. "Didn't you hear the archer yell out that he'd found the ones the crown was looking for? Bandits are a greedy bunch, none of them would stay behind and miss the chance to claim a part of the reward."

Alanna shook her head. "No, I couldn't hear what he said," she told him. "I was too busy trying not to die."

George chuckled. "I'll be right back," he said. "We'll set up camp by the stream tonight so we don't have to go too far."

Alanna stood up. "I'm going to take that as a suggestion for me to fetch our own supplies," she said as George nodded and disappeared into the trees on the other side of the stream.

She found the beginnings of their camp and the horses not far away, munching nonchalantly on the grass as if nothing major had just occurred. "Well you two are obviously not war horses," she grumbled as she grabbed their reins. "We could've used some help back there." They looked at her with vacant stares. George had barely started to build a fire when he'd been interrupted, so there wasn't anything to pack. She led the pair back to the stream and started rummaging through their saddlebags.

She had the beginnings of their tent set up when George returned. He was wearing a new shirt—new to him, anyway—and leading a scruffy-looking mare. He had a few full bags slung over his shoulder. "They had horses for the lot of them. I turned them all loose except this one. She was the nicest looking of the bunch." He knelt next to Thom and pulled a blanket from his pack, tucking it around him. Thom woke with a start, then moaned appreciatively.

"Much better," he said. "Thank you, George Cooper."

George smiled. "It's nice to finally make your acquaintance, Lord Thom."

Thom chuckled softly. "Odd to realize we've never met, though we've corresponded regularly."

"Odd indeed," George said, stroking his chin in thought.

"Corresponded?" Alanna asked.

"Your brother and I have exchanged a fair bit of letters since you started usin' my men as your messengers," George told her. "Natural for two who care about the same person to be friends, don't you think?" he teased.

Thom chortled. "I think my interest is a little more pure than yours is, rogue."

George grinned. "Now, lad, my interests are pure— even if my intentions are not." He gave Alanna one of his flirtatious winks.

"Please, George, not in front of me," Thom said, rolling his eyes. "She is my sister, after all."

"I'd appreciate if you'd stop talking about me and start talking _to_ me for a moment here!" Alanna said, voice shrilly.

They both looked at her guiltily. "Yes?" Thom said.

"Would you mind telling me exactly what you're doing here, Thom?" she asked. "How on earth did you get here?"

"Please, Alanna," Thom said. "Let me get a bite to eat before you begin the interrogations.

She sighed. "I guess we should get dinner started," she said.

George had found a net at the bandit tent, and Alanna spent the better part of the next hour dangling over the stream with it, pulling at it swiftly every now and then when she thought she saw a fish. She slowly made her way down the stream whenever she felt her luck wearing out at a spot, keeping an eye out for deeper and slower areas where the fish might be hiding.

At one particular location, she saw a massive furry bundle clinging to a log on the other side of the stream. She got closer to see what it was and swore. Reaching across with her net, she managed to scoop it up and bring it over to her.

By the time she returned to their location, George had got the fire roaring and was busy trying to melt some cheese over a roll without burning his fingers. When he saw the look on her face and what she carried, he laughed in a way she hadn't heard in a long time. "Well, lass," he said. "I s'pose you'll be hopin' that I can find another wig for you?"

She glared at him and tossed him the fish. She'd been lucky. The stream had been teeming with fish, and she had managed to secure half a dozen moderately sized ones, enough to give them something of a hearty dinner. While George gutted the fish and began to cook them, Alanna returned to setting up the tents.

She was tightening a knot when George came over. "Food's almost done," he said. "I'm goin' to let it sit on the fire for a little longer." He bent down and helped her fasten the last few knots that would secure the tent.

"We'd do better to set another one up too," he said. "Three of us won't fit under this one."

Alanna looked at him. They didn't have to say anything to understand each other. The two of them had been sleeping in the same tent since the beginning of the journey—for warmth and for comfort, Alanna told herself— but she wasn't sure what the sleeping arrangements should be with Thom there. If it was really just for warmth… well, Thom would need warmth more than George did.

"Can you just set up something up around me?" Thom asked. "I don't want to move yet. Pity the wounded man and just throw something on top of me; I'll be fine."

Alanna hesitated. "D'you want me to sleep with you?" she asked. "To keep you warm?"

She could swear she saw him roll his eyes from all the way over there. "I think I can manage. I don't want you bumping into me in the middle of the night."

Alanna smiled a little. "Well, that settles that, I guess," she said. "D'you have another tent in there?" she pointed at the bag George had brought with him from the bandit camp. He nodded.

"We'll set it up after we eat," he said. Alanna nodded, and together they brought the food over to where Thom lay and sat next to him. Alanna helped her twin eat, while George worked on picking the leaves and twigs out of her wig between mouthfuls of fish.

"So," Alanna said once she and Thom had finished eating, "mind explaining how you got here?"

"I think you already know the answer to that," Thom said gingerly.

"But… how…" Alanna couldn't quite formulate the question, too wrapped up in the implications of the answer.

"It's been a pet project of mine to learn how to transform myself for a while now. I was reading up on it, especially after the use I saw George's messengers had in relaying secret information. A hawk? I'd be the best spy in the country, and a good messenger to boot if I ever felt like going into service for the Crown.

"Plus, I know that none of the Mithran priests knew how to do it. I like learning how to do things that none of them can," he said with a smug grin. "I hadn't quite got the hang of it until I got word you'd be discovered. After that… I think my body shocked itself into transforming completely," he said. He tried to adjust himself, but moaned in response. "I think I'm bruised all over," he said. "That man hit me pretty hard after he slashed me across the chest."

"But why were you traveling like this, though?" Alanna asked.

Thom raised an eyebrow. "Would you take a horse for a journey of weeks when you could travel as a hawk and cut your time in half? This way I also wouldn't have had to deal with bandits or other humans like you've had to. Just… bigger hawks…" he said thoughtfully.

"And where are your clothes?" she asked.

Thom blushed, which Alanna supposed was a good sign after all of that blood he'd lost. "You can't carry much when you're in hawk form. I figured I'd reveal myself to you at some place and have you get clothes for me once you got to the city. It's not like I needed to bring anything besides myself to protect you."

She looked at him incredulous. "You were just going to pop up somewhere naked?"

George and Thom both laughed. "Sorry, sister," Thom said. "I hadn't realized how much the idea would offend you."

She was the one blushing now. "It wouldn't offend me! It just doesn't seem like a very well thought out plan!"

Thom smiled. "Well, anyway, I caught up to you a few days ago. I figured I'd follow you until you got nearer to the city and then reveal myself then." He winced in pain again. "Only once you disappeared into the forest, I had a hard time finding you again. I only was able to when I heard a yell. I got there right in time to see someone holding a knife to your throat."

Alanna caught her twin's eye sheepishly and smiled. "Yeah, thanks for that," she said.

Thom smiled. "And I'd do it again," he said. "Just a little more gracefully next time. Less blood, more magic."

Alanna laughed. "I'll take blood over magic any day."

Thom rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to get over that at some point," he said. "The gods don't take kindly to those who ignore their gifts."

She chose to ignore this as well. "So what are we going to do now?" she asked them both. "You're hurt. It's going to be hard for you to move like this."

"I'll manage," he said. "Just let me rest."

George had finished picking through Alanna's wig. It didn't look half bad, she thought. Once it was dry, it even looked like the curls might spring back. Alanna took it from him and placed it upright on a skinny stump in the hopes that it would all dry in the same direction and she'd be able to wear it for the rest of their journey.

She turned to find George looking through the packs to take stock of their food. Alanna didn't like the worried expression on his face.

"We'll have to stop at an inn tomorrow," he whispered to her, not wanting to wake Thom, who'd fallen asleep as soon as he was done eating. "Your brother's not going to heal very fast if he's only eatin' stale cheese and a little bit of bread."

She nodded. "Is there one nearby?" she asked.

George hesitated. "The closest one… I don't know it very well. I've never stayed there before."

"Well," Alanna said, "there might be a bounty on our heads, but Thom's not in trouble and they're not expecting us to be all together. A group of three is a little less suspicious than two when the king's men are looking for two, isn't it?"

George nodded thoughtfully. "Aye, lass, that's true. Still, I don't want to attract any suspicion. We'll have to make the best of the wig you've got and do somethin' to cover that hair of your brother's. Red hair's fair uncommon, and everyone knows what you look like. Your brother's the spittin' image of you, albeit a little taller and brawnier."

Alanna stuck her tongue out at him. "I think I've got a little more muscle than my mage of a brother," she said. "After all, I'm halfway to becoming a knight."

George smiled and grabbed her shoulder. "Muscle and trainin' aren't what make a man's shoulders broad," he said. "You'll have a small frame no matter how strong you are."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "I can still beat anyone with a sword in my hand."

"Aye," George nodded, "that you can. But still, we need to tread lightly tomorrow."

"Well, I think the wig will be fine," Alanna said. "It doesn't look too bad right now. And we can bandage up Thom's head to cover his hair."

"That'll work, lass," he said. "I saw a cap back at the bandit camp we can put on him too, so we don't get too many questions if there's just the bandage." He pulled the tent out of the bag beside him and Alanna stood to help. The two of them worked soundlessly to set it up around Thom, well-practiced in the art of tent-making after so many nights repeating the ritual together.

"Now, let's get to sleep," George whispered. He pulled her arm, gesturing toward the other tent. She followed quietly, not wanting to wake her brother. She was careful to put some distance between herself and George. She didn't want Thom to think her indecent.

All of her careful maneuvering before she fell asleep, however, didn't stop her from rolling right up next to him in the middle of the night when it started to get cold. George smiled when he felt her press up against him, just as she'd done every other night.


	22. Inn, Directly

George stirred the pot, slowly warming up the breakfast he had made of their last handfuls of beans. Alanna plopped down next to him. "I've finished putting the tents away," she said. George handed her a chunk of cheese, and she began to eat. Soon, the beans were ready, and George had a few mouthfuls before putting some in a cup for Thom. He spoon fed him while Alanna ate out of the pot.

Alanna sighed as she scraped the last morsel of beans from the pot and into her mouth. She bit her lip, then stood up and walked over to Thom. "Come on, brother," she said. "We need to cover that hair of yours."

Thom struggled for a moment before sitting up with a groan.

Alanna knelt down next to him and began to wrap his head with a long, white bandage. "Might've been easier to just shave it off," she grunted.

Thom scowled. "Let me keep this one vanity," he said. "I already shaved my beard before I joined you."

Alanna laughed. "You had a beard?" she asked. "You could grow one?"

Thom rolled his eyes. "Of course I could grow one, and I think I looked rather intellectual with it."

Alanna stood up and took a step back to admire her work. "Not a trace of red hair in sight," she said proudly.

George came up behind her. "Well, unless you count the eyebrows," he said, grinning. He handed her a small tin of a dark-looking liquid. "That might do the trick," he said.

Alanna's face fell. "Oh," she said. "I hadn't thought of that."

"When you've been in the business of deceivin' people as long as I have, lass," he said, "you think of _everything_."

"Well," she said, "why didn't we cover my eyebrows up then? Mine are just as red as Thom's."

George grinned. "Who says I didn't?" Alanna looked at him, confused. "After the first inn I managed to secure some. Some men use it to cover the gray in their beads. I didn't want to wake you because you looked so tired, so I just put it on in your sleep. Did I forget to mention it to you?"

Alanna glared at him. "Apparently so."

He laughed. "Well, fortunately I kept it in case it started to wear off."

Alanna huffed and turned her back on him, slowly applying the dye to her brother's eyebrows. When she was done, she wiped the excess with her sleeve and took a step back. "Wow, I guess that does make a difference," she said. "You'd never know."

"When I recover my strength," he told her, "we won't have to bother with this. I'll just place an illusion on us."

George shook his head. "Magic and illusions can fail, especially if someone has set some specifically to reveal hidden things. Paint, wigs, and dyes are undetectable to a mage. These sorts of disguises are more full proof."

Thom pursed his lips, then nodded. "You're right," he said grudgingly. "And anything beyond a small charm would be pretty obvious to someone who's looking for someone in disguise. "

George nodded. "Havin' the Sight has helped me out on many occasions. I'd hate to come across someone with it as well who saw through our disguises."

"Still…" Thom said. He pressed his hand to Alanna's temple, then his own. "Better a small charm on the eyes than someone notice we've both got purple ones." Both his and Alanna's eyes had lost their purple hue, and were now a more subtle shade of blue. "Have you an amulet, sister, that you might be able to wear to mask the fact that you have a charm on your eyes to someone with the Sight?"

Alanna blushed. "Mistress Cooper gave me one to ward off pregnancy a long time ago."

Thom raised an eyebrow, but said, "Well, that should work as well as anything. I'll just spell something to wear around my neck, and hopefully it'll all just look like a protection charm to anyone not paying much attention."

George lifted the amulet that he wore around his neck and handed it to Thom. "That's a loan," he said. "I'll want that back after we get you a replacement."

Thom nodded his thanks.

"Just the eyelashes left," George said. "But most folks don't get close enough to tell the color." He looked at Thom quizzically for a second. "I take it the hair doesn't grow when you're in hawk form?" he asked. "Otherwise I don't see how you're so clean-shaven."

Thom nodded. "I don't think much of anything grows," he said. "Otherwise if I stayed like that long enough and came out of it I'd have scraggly nails and full beard." He pondered this for a second. "Does this mean I'm not aging when I'm a hawk?" he said, scratching his chin in thought.

Alanna rolled her eyes. "Does it matter?" she asked. "I hope you don't plan on spending enough time as one to figure that out." Thom shook his head at her, staring off into the distance.

George handed Thom a hat. "For the final touch," he said.

Thom sat the cap on his head. It had a wide brim, making the bandages difficult to spot at first glance.

Alanna looked up at George. "Final touch?" she said. "Some clothes might be nice."

George sighed. "I'm not a fool, lass, I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "I took a shirt from the bandit camp to wear so Thom could have my spare pair of clothes. I think they'll do nicely for you, Thom. You've surpassed your sister in size far too much to share hers." George rummaged through their bags for a second and pulled out a pair of trousers, a tunic, and a pair of boots. "They might be a little loose," he said, "but in your condition that's certainly better than tight." He handed Alanna the tunic, and she helped Thom get it over his head and put his arms through the sleeves.

"Maybe I'd better help your brother with his trousers," George said. Alanna blushed and turned her back on the two. George helped Thom to his feet, and together they eased him into the pair with only a groan or two on Thom's part. After George called to her, Alanna came back around and helped her twin get his boots on.

"So," George said, "think you can ride?"

Thom gritted his teeth. "I don't think I have much of a choice, do I?"

George shook his head. "Not really, but we're not about to do somethin' that'll kill you."

Thom gave him a small smile. "Thanks for the concern. I think I'll be fine, though, my magic ought to heal me faster than most. It just hurts to move too much."

"We'll go slow today," George said. "I think we've enough ground covered against the king's men that we can afford that for another day, and we'll stop at an inn for the night to give you a good night's sleep."

Thom nodded. "I think I'll live."

George and Alanna got the rest of their camp packed quickly. George helped Thom get on top of the horse that was previously Alanna's, and Alanna mounted the new horse. After George was on his horse, they made their way to the road and started on their journey.

They were quiet for the first few hours, except for George occasionally asking Thom how he was doing. Thom would grunt in reply, which they all took to mean that he was fine enough to keep going.

Finally, though, Alanna broke the silence. "There's something I still don't understand," she said slowly. "Why is there a reward for me alive? Roger clearly wants me dead, so I don't know why that bandit didn't just slit my throat when he had the chance."

George smiled. "Wouldn't be proper to do away with a noble using vigilante justice," he said.

"Why not?" Alanna asked.

"The king needs to make an example out of you," Thom said, finally using full sentences again. "A public execution proves that you're dead and it's an exhibition of his power."

"And proper protocol says that a noble is entitled to a noble death," George said. "Somehow I don't think my crown entitles me to too much though, eh?"

"But isn't the king under Roger's control?" Alanna asked. "Shouldn't he just be doing what Roger wants? Roald seemed so unreasonable at the trial. He wasn't the king I thought I knew."

Thom nodded. "I didn't see the trial, but from what I heard I know you're right. Roger can't completely control him without it attracting suspicion. He has to adhere to custom or the rest of the nobility will cry foul. If the king shows that he's willing to ignore laws protecting nobles, they're not going to be happy about that. He already took a risk in throwing the trial the way he did, but he wouldn't be stupid enough to circumvent established policy like that. Nobles are executed publicly if at all possible."

"Aye," George said. "But that doesn't mean that Roger wants you brought back alive. Those men were common bandits who simply tried to take advantage of a bounty they'd learned of. Men hired by Roger are bein' paid already to kill you and won't care about the bounty sayin' you're worth more alive."

Alanna's eyes narrowed. "Spectacular," she said. "So what of the king's men?" she asked. "If we meet them, they'll kill you and take Thom and me?"

George shook his head. "They might be the king's men in name, but more likely they're Roger's men. If he was smart he'd be payin' any number of them to make sure that, if they come across you, you end up dead. Somehow. And as we know he's no fool, we have to stay away from them."

Alanna sighed. "Well, we're doing a good enough job of that, anyway," she said. "So what's our story, then? When we check into the inn?"

"Same as before, lass," George said. "We're a married couple, now we're just travelin' with your brother too. Thom, I think it's best if we pretend that you're crippled so they don't question your injuries. Got any preference for your name?"

"Not particularly," Thom said. "Something common, I suppose."

"Aye," George said. "That's why I've been goin' with Timothy, Tim for short."

"I guess that's out, then," Thom said. "Thanks for taking something so close to my name." His tone was serious, but Alanna saw a rare grin on his face.

"I've been going with Elaine," she said, smiling.

"Well, since we're siblings, I suppose our names should match somehow," he said. "Ethan. We'll go for alliteration since I don't like any male names that rhyme with Elaine."

"You could go with 'Pain'," Alanna said, "for pain in the—"

"Quiet," George said, cutting her off. "Do you hear that?"

Alanna could hear it. "Sounds like someone's coming," she said. George nodded and gestured silently for them to follow him. They did, pulling themselves off the path and into the forest. They walked deeper and deeper into it, until the road was nearly invisible. George pulled out his telescope again, using it to focus on the road.

The noise got louder, and a large group of men passed where they had been just moments before, coming from the direction they'd been heading. George swore again. "How many search parties did his Majesty _send_?" he asked, incredulous. He tucked the telescope back into his bag. "At least we're not going to have to avoid that group," he said, "since they're going the opposite direction."

Alanna groaned. "This is impossible!"

"Nothing is impossible when you're with me," George said, flashing a toothy grin at her.

Thom rolled his eyes. "Let's get moving again then, shall we?" he said. George nodded and turned his horse around again, leading them back to the road.

They found the inn soon after nightfall. It was a place that seemed almost empty, save for the few travelers such as themselves. As George spoke with the innkeeper, Alanna stood with Thom near the entrance. He held onto her arm to steady himself, and the two of them examined a large board full of fliers and notices.

There was one larger than the rest, tacked straight into the middle and on top of all of the other notices. "REWARD," it read, "for the capture of crown traitor ALANNA OF TREBOND. WANTED for HIGH TREASON. Considered DANGEROUS. Approach with caution. Reward for capture: 500 GOLD CROWNS ALIVE, 300 DEAD. Traveling with a GEORGE COOPER, also considered DANGEROUS. 300 GOLD CROWNS DEAD." In smaller print was a detailed description of the two of them, noting their presumed location and an appraisal of their skills.

Alanna sighed with relief at the note of her purple eyes, thankful her brother had taken care of that little detail. There were sketches of the two of them, but the detail was rough. It looked as if the artist had never seen either one of them—and likely he hadn't, if these fliers came from the men who had just passed. It's not as if many in Port Legann knew their faces.

"I'd fancy gettin' that reward," a voice said in her ear, and she turned to find an older man standing next to her, clutching a powerfully strong-smelling mug of ale.

She managed a laugh. "I'd fancy it too," she said. "I wouldn't have to work for years."

"And you, boy?" the man asked, nudging Thom.

Thom winced and the man narrowed his eyes. "Please, sir," Alanna said. "My brother's not well. He doesn't talk or understand much."

This seemed to satisfy the man, and he said, "They brought that in earlier," he said. "Been lookin' for those traitors far and wide, they have."

"Really?" Alanna asked. "This is the first I'm hearing of it." She didn't want to engage the man any farther, but she wanted to know exactly what had become common knowledge.

"Aye," the man nodded. "Disappeared—mayhap a week or so ago? The girl—well, she's no looker,"—Alanna suppressed the urge to wince—"I guess, apparently she's been livin' as a boy at the palace. They caught 'er and they were goin' t' execute her for tryin' t' kill the king's nephew after 'e found out, but she escaped. That man there, they say he's the king o' thieves or summat and he helped her get out, and now they're on the run together. Not sure where they're goin' or what they're doin' but they want 'em caught or dead."

"Hm," Alanna said thoughtfully.

"How've you not heard this?" the man asked. "It's all anyone's talkin' about."

"Oh," Alanna said. "Well, I'd heard about the trial, but I hadn't heard about the escape and the reward and the rest of it. My husband and brother and I have been traveling. We're visiting my mother before she passes."

The man nodded his head respectfully. "May the Goddess bless her, then," he said.

George had returned at this point holding two pairs of keys. "Elaine?" he said. "Is this man botherin' you?"

"No trouble, no trouble, sonny," the man said. "Jus' tellin' yer girl here 'bout the traitors on the run." He gestured at the notice.

Alanna watched George's eyes widen in shock for no more than a fraction of a second, but he quickly disguised it. "First I'm hearin' of it," he said.

"I'll tell you all about it," Alanna said with a smile. "But first, I need food." She shot him a pointed look.

"Aye, well, I'll leave you to it, then," the older man said, tottering off. Alanna let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Where'd you learn to act like that?" Thom asked under his breath.

"Comes with not wanting to get killed," Alanna hissed. "I got it down after the first inn."

George guided them over to a table near the bar. He helped Alanna get Thom seated, then went over to the bar. He came back several minutes later holding a tray piled high with food.

"Dig in," he said.

Thom was able to manage a fork now, so they all ate together, rapidly, in silence. "Nice having something other than field mice," Thom whispered, and Alanna shuddered.

When they were done, George steered them both to the hallway that led to the private rooms. "Bottom floor," he said softly, "so Thom doesn't have to walk up the stairs."

"Thanks," Thom said softly.

George unlocked the door of a room. He offered Thom his arm. Thom took it, and George helped him across the room and into his bed. Alanna followed behind. "Don't leave the room," George said quietly. "They think you're a little mental, so it won't do to wander around. We'll come get you in the morning, but try to get some rest."

"Not sure if it's possible for me to get up by myself, but I'll take this into consideration, Cooper," Thom said.

George smiled. "All right, lad," he said. Alanna helped her twin take his boots off while George lit a candle next to the bed. He walked around the room, checking the window and tapping on the walls softly. "Sorry," he said. "I'm not familiar with this inn. Just want to make sure the door's the only way to get in here." He stopped, finally, and placed the candle on the nightstand. "Get some shut eye," he said, blowing the candle out. He walked out, locking the door behind him and pocketing the key.

"So I take it we're sharing a room, then?" Alanna asked softly.

"We _are_ married," George said. He was grinning, but Alanna could see in the soft torchlight that the smile didn't meet his eyes.

He unlocked the door of the room next to Thom's. Alanna followed him inside. He placed their bags down on the ground beside him. George lit a candle again and inspected their room as he'd done Thom's. When he was done, he blew the candle out and sat on the bed. The only light left in the room came from the window, where a thin strip of moonlight shone through. Still, it was enough for Alanna to see the contours of George's chest as he stripped his tunic off, tossing it onto the floor. As he bent down to unlace his boots, he caught her looking at him.

He stopped unlacing for a second and looked at her with one eyebrow raised. She sighed and took her wig off, placing it on the knob at the end of the bed. She sat down next to George, also leaning down to unlace her boots. By the time she was done, George was already laying in the bed next to her. She climbed over him to the empty spot on the other side, accidently brushing her hand against his chest as she did so. She shivered. His muscles were hard and toned, and for a second she was all too aware of the fact that, physically, George was much stronger than she was.

"George?" she said quietly, her back to him.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I like pretending to be married to you," she whispered.

He turned her body with one hand so that he faced her. "Me too," he said simply, and kissed her gently on the mouth.

For once, she let him.


	23. The Golden Griffon

Alanna picked her tunic off the floor and slipped it over her head. She sat down on the bed and bent over to lace her boots. George sat next to her, doing the same. He caught her eye and smiled.

There was a mirror hanging on the wall by the door. Alanna, boots now in place, strode over to it, picking her wig off the ground on the way. Sure enough, when she looked in the mirror, she saw darkened eyebrows that didn't match her unruly head of red hair. She scowled and put the wig on her head. "A lady's vanity, isn't something to be trifled with," she said. "You should've told me about the eyebrows."

George grinned. "And for that, my lady, I am truly sorry." He walked up to her as she tried to straighten her wig-hair and planted a light kiss on her cheek. "I hope you can forgive me."

She swatted him away with one hand. "None of that," she said.

George rolled his eyes. "As you wish," he said. He bent down to pick up their bags and slung them over his shoulder. "You look lovely," he said softly after Alanna appeared to stop fiddling with her hair.

It was Alanna's turn to roll her eyes, but she smiled nonetheless. "Come on," she said. "Let's go wake up Thom."

* * *

They were on the road shortly after, their supplies newly stocked and Thom appearing to have made significant progress in his health.

"You seem a lot better than you did yesterday," Alanna said suspiciously.

Thom glared at her. "I just needed time to replenish my magic. It helps you heal faster, you know."

"I know that," Alanna said, "You just look a lot better, is all."

George ignored the two of them. "We're almost there," he said. "Thom, if you can handle the pace, I think we can make it to The Golden Griffon with only two more nights on the road."

"I can handle it," Thom said.

"Good," George said. "Jon should be there already, providin' the King's men haven't found him. He had a day's head start and only himself to worry about. My man there won't betray him, but I can't say the same for his patrons."

"So we'll get there soon," Thom said. "The Prince is intelligent enough to evade capture, I believe."

"Aye," George said. "So, Thom, I have to ask. Why Carthak?"

"Not now," Thom said. "I'll only have to explain it again when we meet up with the Prince."

"I'd like to know, if you don't mind," Alanna said. "It's sort of degrading to have everyone else deciding my fate for me."

"If you have a better plan, sister, I'd like to hear it," Thom snapped. "Trust me on this."

Alanna went silent, glowering at her twin.

George didn't ask any more questions, knowing Thom wouldn't give him a real answer. Alanna didn't seem to get the hint, and every so often began peppering her brother with questions until he finally barked at her to just be quiet and enjoy the fresh air.

The next few days were uneventful. After that first day, Alanna had given up on asking Thom questions and they all rode in silence. None of them were in particularly good moods, so they all thought it better to just be quiet rather than snap at each other.

Finally, as the sun was setting on the second day, George spotted a small wooden sign advertising the Golden Griffon. He pointed with a grin on his face. "The inn's just a few miles down the road," he said. "It's right on the outskirts of Port Legann. You can see the whole city from the hill it sits atop."

Alanna smiled. "It's about time."

George laughed. "We've made good time," he said.

Soon they could see the inn, starting off as a speck on the horizon before looming into sight. George had been right about the view; it was beautiful. Alanna could see the city's entire layout, massive and sprawling, and even could make out a few boats in the harbor. The inn was built to overlook the whole valley, in every way a gateway to the city.

George wasn't paying much attention to the view that Alanna gawked at. "Come on," he said, "it's starting to get dark."

She slid off her horse. Thom and George had already done so. George gathered the reins and brought them to the stables. He emerged a few minutes later, smiling. "Jon's horse is in there," he said quietly.

Alanna smiled too. They all followed George into the inn, Alanna on his arm as Thom no longer needed to lean on either of them for support. "I always feel a little silly doing this," she whispered to George. He smiled and shook his head as they stepped inside together.

It was warm inside, and Alanna was grateful to finally be out of the chilly autumn wind. "Conal!" George said loudly. The young woman who was behind the bar polishing a serving platter jumped and dropped it so it hit the floor with a loud, metallic clatter, but the face of the man who was polishing a glass next to her lit up with a bright smile. He gestured them over with a wave of his arm.

"Good t' see ye," Conal said, putting his glass down. "It's been too long, m' friend."

George extended his hand over the bar and the man took it, giving him a firm shake.

"Aye," George said, "that it has."

Conal gestured at the woman beside him, who was blushing furiously after picking up the platter. "M' wife, Lizette."

George inclined his head. "Pleasure to meet you, m'lady," he said.

The woman offered him a small smile. She went back to her work, but the deep blush didn't leave her face.

"Been expectin' ye," Conal told him quietly. "Ye had a 'friend' show up a few days ago, promisin' me quite a bit o' money for my silence and my hospitality in yer name."

George gave him a small smile. "He's here, then?"

"Aye," Conal replied. "First door on yer right down the hallway."

With that, Alanna left George's arm and marched over to the hallway. George shrugged at Conal and followed her. "We're meetin' an old friend," he told the man. "I'll tell you more in a bit." George found Alanna knocking on the door, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for it to open.

"Who's there?" a man's voice called

"It's me," she said, knowing better than to use her name. She heard the door unlatch and it swung open to reveal Jonathan, standing there with a rather bemused expression on his face. She hesitated for a second before he pulled her into a quick hug, saying quietly, "Thank the Goddess you're all right."

Alanna smiled. "I could say the same about you."

Jonathan looked around Alanna to see George and Thom, the latter whom he raised an eyebrow at. "I thought you'd be meeting us here," he said to Thom. "What are you doing with them already?"

Thom shook his head. "It's a long story," he said. "Can we come in?"

Jon gestured for them to follow. The room was big, and it was obvious he was prepared for their arrival. There was a table with four chairs around it, and a candle in the middle of it was burning brightly. A few other candles were placed around the room, lighting it clearly. Alanna could see that the table was strewn with papers, everything from maps to what looked like letters.

Thom was the last one in the room, and he closed it behind him. He locked the door and then, for good measure, sealed it with magic. He held his hands to the door and said, "I just want to spell it to keep people from overhearing."

Jon shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to be safe, but there aren't that many here anyway."

"Good," George said as he too inspected the room.

Alanna took a seat at the table next to Jonathan. He had a few maps spread out in front of him. "How on earth did you get here so fast?" he asked Thom, glancing at the distance between the City of the Gods and Port Legann.

"I'll tell you in a minute," Thom said, putting the finishing touches on the protective spells around the room. He sat down next to Alanna. George took the seat to Jonathan's left.

Thom started off by telling them again about his hawk transformation. He included details he hadn't mentioned when he had initially told Alanna and George, like about being chased by birds of prey larger than himself, being followed by some overly amorous female hawks, and almost getting shot by an archer at one point. Alanna suspected he was embellishing a little, but she kept quiet. When he was done, Jonathan laughed a little.

"Sounds like you had quite the adventure," he said. "Now what's the plan?"

Thom pulled the map closer to him. "We sail to Carthak on the first ship out," he said, pointing to it on the map. "The journey's a few weeks long, but it's the fastest way there."

"But what, exactly, do you plan for us to do in Carthak?" Jonathan asked. "I don't think that's the safest place for... for an unconventional woman."

Thom shook his head. "It's not," he said. "But we have to go regardless. There's something in Carthak we need to find."

"What, then?" George asked. "It's not like there's evidence of Alanna's innocence there. Sure, the king might have no authority there, but we would've been just as safe goin' to Tusaine or Galla if we wanted a safe haven."

"There might not be evidence of Alanna's innocence there," Thom said, "but I think we might find evidence of Roger's guilt."

"How?" Jon asked sharply.

"Where was Roger during the Sweating Sickness?" Thom asked.

They were all quiet for a moment. "You said... you said he was in Carthak," Alanna said slowly. "You said he was powerful enough to send it across the ocean, even though most other people didn't believe that's possible."

Thom nodded. "He definitely has the power to do that. But not without creating a focus."

"A what?" Alanna asked.

Thom sighed. "You need to have more training, sister," he said. She glared at him. "He'll have needed to build a model to channel his magic through," Thom said. "Maybe a replica of Corus? In any case, his focus would have taken a long time to build. It's not something he would have thrown out when he was done with it—in fact, I don't think he _could_ throw it out when he was done with it; it'd be too easy to trace it back to him and an object with that much magic channeled through it would call too much attention to itself. No, I think it's hidden somewhere."

"So we just need to find it?" Alanna asked. "Where do you think it's hidden?"

"At the Carthaki Royal University," Thom said. "Where he was living at the time. It's got to be somewhere there."

"No," Jonathan said quickly. "No, I forbid it."

"Why?" Alanna asked.

"They'll kill you," he said. "I'm okay with going to Carthak, but Alanna is not going near the palace. They'll kill her if they know who she is and what she's done."

"No," Thom said, "they won't."

"And how can you be so sure of this?" Jonathan hissed.

"We're going to bargain," Thom said.

For the next few hours Thom laid out the plan to them. They would take a boat together, disguising themselves until they arrived in Carthak. Then, Jonathan would announce his presence to the palace and request an audience with the emperor. Thom would accompany him. As the crown prince of Tortall, Jonathan would offer the emperor friendship and loyalty in exchange for a place to stay and for keeping Alanna safe. If the emperor agreed, the rest of them would join him at the palace. If the emperor did not… then they would have to keep Alanna from being discovered, and they would work out a plan to get into the palace and try to find evidence of Roger's treachery.

At one point, Thom pointed to the ring on Jonathan's finger. "Can we use this?"

Jonathan pulled his hand away. "That's a royal artifact."

"Even better," Thom said. "Can we give it to the emperor?"

Jonathan frowned, but took the dazzling sapphire ring off and placed it on the table. "We can, but I don't see how that'd impress him," he said. "The emperor of Carthak is unbelievably wealthy."

Thom took it into his hand and began to whisper softly. Alanna could feel the magic that her twin was calling. It made the hair on her arms stand up on end like she'd just been electrified. Then all of a sudden, they lay flat again as if nothing had happened. Alanna relaxed.

"What did you just do?" she said.

"Try it on," Thom urged Jonathan.

Jonathan slid the ring onto his finger and gasped. He started to shiver violently. "What d-did y-you d-do?" he asked through chattering teeth.

"Just say, 'Stop, ring,'" Thom said.

"Stop, ring," Jonathan commanded. He sighed then, and the shaking stopped. "Why would you do that?" he exclaimed, looking in disgust at the ring on his finger.

Thom laughed. "Carthak's a fair bit warmer than you're used to. The emperor will appreciate it, I promise. It was only so cold to you because it's already cold in here."

Jonathan shrugged. "I suppose."

"If that's so great, don't you think the Emperor would have done that already?" George asked. "You sure you're not showin' him a trick he already knows?"

Thom shook his head. "There's cooling tricks, yes, but I haven't seen any that applied to an object that protects the wearer. I made that one up myself."

Alanna looked at her twin suspiciously. "Why would you do that?" she asked. "It's freezing up north."

Thom shrugged. "I learned to do it for heating. I hadn't tried it for cooling before, but I figured it'd work the same way."

"But it might not have!" Alanna said. "You could have hurt Jonathan!"

"It's fine," Jonathan said quietly. "Your brother obviously knew what he was doing. So, Thom, how do you get it working again? 'Start, ring'?" Jonathan shuddered violently. "Stop, ring. Well, guess I figured that one out, didn't I?" He grinned a little.

"So that's the whole plan, then?" Alanna said. "And you'll have Jonathan offer the ring as a gift meant to impress him?"

"That's the idea," Thom nodded.

"I don't like it," George said. "Too many things can go wrong with it."

"It's the best we've got," Jonathan said. "And it won't be that bad. You and Alanna will be safe somewhere, and they would not dare hurt me or they'd risk starting a war with Tortall. My father may be 'the Peacemaker', but he wouldn't let someone get away with killing me."

George nodded. "We'll just have to all stay on our guard."

"Do you know when the next boat leaves for Carthak?" Thom asked.

Jon produced a leaf of paper that had a list of times and dates. "I paid someone to pick this up for me," he explained.

"But won't they know that you're planning on going to Carthak?" Alanna squeaked. "What if they realize who you are?"

"Don't worry," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "I had a list of things for him to get me. This wasn't the only thing. Even if someone—say, my father—knew the information I had asked for, they wouldn't know if I was sailing to Carthak, the Copper Isles, or even up to Corus. Or if I planned on borrowing a horse to travel to the Great Southern Desert." He flashed a smile. "I was thorough."

George smiled. "High time you started thinkin' like a thief," he said.

"Or a king," Jonathan said. He met George's gaze and the two shared a small, knowing smile.

"We'd better get to bed soon," Thom said, looking down at the list of Carthaki departure dates. "It looks like the first boat leaves around eleven o'clock tomorrow. We'll want time to get down there, so we should probably leave a little after dawn."

George nodded. "Let me go get the keys from Conal," he said. "Alanna here was a little too excited for me to have much time to arrange things properly." George disappeared, returning a few minutes later with two keys. "We've got the two next door," he said.

"Good night, then," Alanna said as she picked up one of the bags and walked toward the door. She grabbed one of the keys from George's outstretched hand with a yawn and walked out into the hallway. Thom hesitated for a second. He stuck his head out into the hallway, then ducked back into the room.

"There's something I didn't mention about the plan," he said. The other two men looked at him quizzically.

"About the bargaining. I'm going to bargain myself too. I'm going to offer my services to the emperor as payment for keeping Alanna safe. That's part of why the ring is important—it's proof of my skill."

George shook his head. "Alanna isn't going to like this," he said.

"That's why you're not going to tell her," Thom said.

Jonathan frowned. "Will it be necessary?" he asked. "You don't believe my friendship is enough?"

Thom shook his head. "We can try," he said, "but I don't think friendship will get you far considering how many years it might be until you're on the throne. A mage dedicated to your service has a better chance than that alone."

George shrugged. "I suppose that might work," he said. Jonathan nodded in agreement.

"Well," Thom said, "I'm off to bed." George offered him the other key and he took it with a yawn not unlike his sister's.

George stooped down to grab the other bag Alanna had left behind.

"Two rooms?" Jonathan said quietly.

George looked up. He flashed the ring he'd been wearing on his finger. "We've been sayin' we're married."

"But your friend the innkeeper knows you're not," Jonathan said.

"Aye," George said. "But the other patrons here don't know that."

They regarded each other carefully. "Well, good night then," George said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

"Good night."


	24. A Crack at Dawn

George woke with a start, his heart thumping as if he'd just been in a fight. He glanced out the window and saw that it nearing dawn: the sky was still dark, but a thin gold band appeared on the horizon.

The feeling that washed over him was not a good one, but it was familiar nonetheless.

Quietly, he stepped out of his bed, careful not to wake Alanna. He crept to the doorway and pressed his ear against it. Like he expected, he heard the murmuring of a few voices in the hallway just beyond his door. He focused his ears as best as he could to decipher the muffled speech, but he only made out bits and pieces.

A female voice. "…these rooms, all of... warrant…"

"…sure?" Male, this time.

"Yes… husband… friends."

"… the rest of the men… before…"

That was enough for George to understand why his sleep had suddenly become so unsettling. He resisted the urge to swear violently, instead saying a quick prayer of thanks to the Crooked God for his gift of Sight. He crept over to the bed and shook Alanna gently.

"Wh—" she tried to say, before he put his hand on her mouth.

"We have to go," he whispered. "Now. Someone's comin' for us."

Alanna's eyes grew wide and she scrambled out of bed. She threw her clothes on as fast as she could, lacing her boots a little sloppier than she'd normally do.

"Don't worry about that," George said. "We'll fix it later." He was already completely dressed, down to the boots, and was unlatching the window he had so meticulously inspected the night before. Alanna grabbed the bags near the door and followed him to the window. She set them down next to him, and he hoisted her up and through the window, followed by the bags. She swung one over her back. He pulled himself through the window and landed on the grass outside as gracefully as a cat.

George picked up the other sack and quietly moved to Jon's window. Alanna went to Thom's. They both knocked quietly on the windows until each room's occupant awoke. Alanna watched as Jon handed a bag with parchment peeking out of the top to George before jumping out of the window after it, landing neatly upon the grass. Thom's jump was a little less graceful, his injuries and lack of training preventing him from fully understanding how to land. Alanna winced as her brother fell into an awkward heap and bent over to help him to his feet.

Jon took a step as if in the direction of the stables before George grabbed his arm. "Leave the horses," George whispered. "We go on foot."

Jon winced, then nodded. "All right," he said.

George caught his eye. "Don't worry," he said. "Conal's a good man. Your horse will be fine."

"A good man who betrays his friends?" Thom hissed quietly.

"I don't think he did," George said, "but his wife might've. Now come on, before they discover we're missin'."

The group crept quietly behind the inn to the forest that shadowed it. "How did you know something was wrong?" Jon whispered as they crouched low under the cover of the trees.

George was rifling through Jon's bag. "I woke up unsettled. My Sight does that to me sometimes. I could hear someone talking through the door about us, saying something about a warrant and…" he thought for a moment, "…a husband. Conal and his wife were the only ones around when we got in last night. She must've picked up on who we were, or Conal said somethin' to her," he finished, pulling out the map he was looking for.

He laid it out before them, pulling back the rolled edges so they could all see it. "I'm not riskin' walkin' to the front to see if whoever she was talkin' to already had more men waitin' outside for us," George said. "We'll have to go around to the city another way." He pointed to the map. "There's a huntin' trail that goes through this forest and down into the valley around Port Legann. We can go this way, and come into the city from the east."

Jon was studying the map carefully, but nodded at George. "That seems like the only way," he said.

Alanna nodded. Thom stared blankly at the map with a furrowed brow, then sighed, shaking his head. "What?" Alanna asked.

"I'm not an expert with maps," Thom said. "But if you're all in agreement, let's go."

The four of them straightened, then fell into a line with George in front, Alanna behind him, Thom behind her, and Jon bringing up the rear. Stepping as lightly as they could, they made their way further and further into the forest. Alanna noted with relief that the path was terribly overgrown—no one had used this trail in weeks, so with any luck no one but the animals in the forest would know they were there.

Alanna peered around George to see the lightening of the forest ahead, where the trees ended and the open world began. The trail, she remembered, ended a few miles east of the port they'd be leaving from. It'd be a half hour or more to the city limits, but the boat didn't leave for a few hours still, so she knew they'd be fine.

 _As long as the king's men don't search the city for us_ , she thought. She brushed this thought off for the time being, though, as worrying did no good when they had no other option. It wasn't as if they could convince the captain to leave port without attracting the suspicion of everyone there.

Alanna broke the silence that had fallen over them since they had begun their walk. "Cover stories?" she hissed. "Same as before, or are we going with new ones?"

"Hm," George said. "I'm not sure. I thought we'd just discuss it this morning before we left. I suppose the Trickster had other plans for us."

"Trickster?" Alanna asked, raising an eyebrow that no one could see.

"Aye," George said. "Thief god. I suppose he's not one you lot up at the palace would call upon too often."

Jon laughed quietly. "Maybe to curse," he said.

George smiled. "He's the last god I'd want to curse if I were you," he said. He paused for a moment, then slowed the group to halt. The four turned to face each other.

"We'll use similar cover stories," George said. "And maybe we should split for the journey so as not to attract suspicion."

"No," Thom said. "Once we're on the boat, we're on. I highly doubt anyone on the boat has enough magical ability to communicate with anyone back on land to tell them where we are and since we're taking a direct route to Carthak, no one could beat us from Tortall, even if they decide to come after us."

Jon shook his head. "No," he said, "George is right. The bounty on his and Alanna's heads is high—they might even turn the boat around if they realize who they are to collect the money. We'd better lay low until we're off the boat and well away from our own countrymen."

They were all quiet for a moment before George said, "I have an idea for a new story. We'll keep Alanna as my wife and Thom as her brother—they look too much alike to say anything else—but we'll claim to be spice merchants looking to go to Carthak to import. Spice merchants travel this way all the time, they need several people to transport goods, and they are often carrying a lot of money. It's obvious enough from speaking to either one of you—" he gestured to Jonathan and Thom—"that you come from a life of privilege." He paused. "Me—well, I just married into the family business," he said as he held up Alanna's hand, where the ring he'd slid on her finger weeks ago glittered in the light of dawn. "Easy enough to remember and embellish on if there's a need."

Thom nodded. "That sounds easy enough," he said. "Even though I don't know a damn thing about spices."

George grinned. "Luckily for us, I do," he said. "I've stolen enough in the day to know which ones are valuable and what they look like. If anyone has any questions, direct them to me and play the ignorant eldest son whose only interest in the family business is how deeply it can fill his pockets."

Jon smiled in relief. "I know enough that I could cover quite easily," he said. "This should work."

George nodded. "Aye, think we can manage—right, Elaine?" he said, pointing at Alanna. "I, Gregory, am a reputable spice merchant. And my brother-in-law Ronald," he pointed to Thom, "is thrilled to have a new brother to help with the family business he just inherited so we can save money and not have to employ any men besides—"

"Richard," Jon supplied, "an old family friend." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Richard, Elaine, Gregory, and Ronald." He smiled. "Well, Gregory, shall we continue?"

George turned without another word.

They emerged from the forest to find a thin road winding past, appearing to go in the general direction of the city's center. After another quick consultation of the map, they followed it as quickly as they could. No one took much interest to them, save for a few mangy dogs that followed them. Jon chucked a piece of dried jerky behind him, causing the lot to erupt into a dusty cloud of yips and snarls as they all fought over the meat. After that, they were left to journey in peace, travelers being especially common in a port city.

The roundabout way they had taken to the port took much longer than they had planned for. They reached the dock where the ship to Carthak was loading up with little more than an hour to spare. "Right on time," George whispered. "Let me take care of this."

He walked up to what appeared to be the ship's captain, a man who was standing near the dock and smoking out of a pipe with a rounded bowl from which puffed a cloud of thick, white smoke. Alanna watched as they conversed quietly before George slipped something into his hand.

George gestured for them to follow, and they all made their way up the gangplank onto the ship. "We're sharing a cabin," he told them. "Four bunks. Meals are twice a day for passengers and the journey shouldn't be more than two weeks."

An older boy was standing at the top of the gangplank. He solemnly asked them what room they were in before leading them down some stairs into a narrow hallway in the heart of the ship. He opened the door and wordlessly pointed. George handed him a coin, and the boy nodded before scampering away.

"Well," George said, "I guess we should make ourselves at home."


End file.
